Livewire
by SarcasticEnigma
Summary: Gwen ran to escape a past she wanted to forget. Love and family aren't things she need. All she needs are her gloves, clients, and enough money to set her up for life. Or so she thinks. Angel-xover! Mild LoganGwen! ScottGwen! R&R!
1. Another Beginning

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**_Livewire_ **

**Chapter 1: Another Beginning**

I'm not like most people. I'm different. Not special though, I'm cursed. From the moment I was born, I've killed everything that's touched my skin. Well, killed or put in a permanent coma. My own parents are afraid of me! So afraid, in fact, that they've decided to send me to some school for gifted kids: 1407 Graymalkin Lane. Salem Center. Westchester County, New York City. Yay me.

I live in Wisconsin, and I love it here. It's quiet, peaceful, and not overly crowded. Then again, it's considered hell on earth by most people…and Kevin Smith, apparently. _Dogma_, case in point. But I like it here, it's home. The people are stupid, myself excluded. Most people stay away from me, so they never suspect me when their wallets or watches go missing. Easy money. New York though, that's tougher territory. If I try to pickpocket there, I'll probably wind up getting shot or stabbed or something.

"Gwen, time to go!"

"Coming, Sybil!"

Sybil is my mother. She's never really been a mom to me though, being that she's so scared of me, so she doesn't get the titled of "Mom". That's a special word, one that she doesn't deserve. My father is Chuck. Well, actually, it's Charles, but everyone calls him Chuck. He also is undeserving of the title of "Dad". Although, he's not as bad as Sybil. Chuck actually gave me something to help me with my curse: elbow length opera gloves, black. His grandmother's.

"Gwen, now, sweetie!" Sybil called.

She's trying to be sweet, make things easier on herself. She's been doing this since her and Chuck decided to send me away. Both of them have been trying to justify what their doing so they don't feel bad about handing their only child over to total strangers…again.

Two plane rides and a three-hour drive in a crappy rental car later, we arrive at my orphanage – I'm sorry, "school". This whole state looks and smells differently than Wisconsin. I miss the fresh air already. I'll take that over this smog any day.

"Mr. and Mrs. Raiden, welcome to our school for gifted youngsters." 'Youngsters', what the hell does that mean? I'm thirteen, a teenager, not some prepubescent idiot. 'Youngsters', hmph!

"Thank you, Mr. Xavier, Mr. Lensherr," Chuck says, shaking both men's hands. Both men are old, very old, prehistoric old. Great, my jailers are old arthritic fogies. Just great.

"Hello, Gwen. My name is Charles, and this is my good friend Erik."

"Say "hello", Gwen," Sybil coaxes quietly.

"Hi," I greet reluctantly, looking between the old men with uncertainty. How could they possibly take care of me?

"Would you, perhaps, like to get settled and meet the other children?" the bald guy asks kindly.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Chuck asks and, for once, I agree with him. "I mean, her condition…"

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with your daughter, Mr. Raiden," Lensherr states firmly. I think I love this man. "She's a very bright child. A bit problematic at her previous school, I understand, but what child isn't at her age?" he reasons with a gracious smile.

Yes, I definitely love this man. Sybil and Chuck nod and I just stand there, in my usual attire: the gloves, long jeans, a long sleeved sweater with a jean jacket over that, black sneakers, and my hair tied back to rest under a hood. I'm also wearing a thick scarf around my neck, made by my only living grandparent – Chuck's mother. She made it for me a while after the accident, and my clothing earned me some strange looks in the airport.

Still, the accident. Mr. Lensherr brought up my previous school, and I can't help but remember it.

When I was nine, Sybil and Chuck tried to send me to public school for the first time. Our white Mercedes drove past a sign reading Thorpe's Academy. I stood there on the gravel of the drive in my red snowsuit and mittens, even though it was the middle of summer. I'd gotten used to the heat that came with the suit since I was always dressed in it. I looked like a walking stop sign back then, which was probably a good thing in retrospect. An early warning, I guess, for others to stay away.

Behind me, Sybil and Chuck get out of the car and come to stand a few steps behind me. They're so afraid that they can't even stand next to me, or even within a foot of me. A woman dressed in businesslike attire stepped forward, her blonde hair tied back in a strict bun.

"Mr. and Mrs. Raiden, welcome to the academy. I'm Lydia Thorpe," she greets. I guessed she was the proprietor of the school.

"We can't thank you enough," Sybil said in relief. "After all we've been through…" After all _you've_ been through? I don't remember _you_ get struck by lightning or killing the tutors, nannies, maids, or butlers!

"Honestly, I should be thanking _you_. Your gift to the school was _quite_ generous," she replied with a smile. Yes, my parents basically bribed a school into taking me. I still wonder how much it was, but it was definitely around six figures. "We've already invested a portion of it into the accommodations for Gwen's…special needs," she said cautiously.

"When should we come back?" Chuck asked.

"Classes end June 3rd," Lydia replied. I didn't turn to look at them, but I knew both of them were exchanging looks. They were probably hoping they wouldn't have to come back to get me at all.

"Well, here you go, Gwen," Chuck said to me, trying to sound enthusiastic. "You're finally going to school. Exciting, isn't it?"

"You be a good girl now. You hear me?" Right, like I'm going to look at the mother whose abandoning me. "Be good and, remember, we love you," Sybil said, though it wasn't all that convincing.

"Thanks again. We'll see you in June," Chuck said to Lydia, who just nodded. "June, all right, Gwen?" I didn't answer him, I never anymore. Instead, I walked slowly towards Lydia. My parents, as far as I was concerned at this point, were dead.

"Hello, Gwen. I'm Ms. Thorpe. I'm going to take you up to class now. You _must_ stay away from the other children, of course, but I'm confident you will learn my other rules very quickly," Lydia said to me, all while smiling, and we walked towards the academy. I was the leper of the 20th century.

I had stopped suddenly and turned back to look at Sybil and Chuck. They had simply turned away from watching me to leave. Ignoring my parents, I turned back to Lydia and reached out a gloved hand to her. I had hoped that, since she was taking me in, she would treat me like any other child: normally. But Lydia batted my hand away and pointed a finger at me.

"No, Gwen," she scolded, and we continued up the drive, in silence and two feet apart.

Three months had passed without incident, thankfully. I was given my own room, far from the other kids, but I still had to where my suit. Even though I was by myself, I could still hurt things. One day, the kids were scattered outside, playing in the sunshine behind the academy while I sat under a tree a little ways off, watching.

I wish so badly that I could play with them, make friends with them, even talk to them. But I wasn't allowed. It was against the rules. If I did, Lydia probably would've hit my hands with a ruler or something. After my momentary sulking, I turned to my lunch. I couldn't manage to grasp the plastic spoon for my pudding – I used to love Snack Packs – so I pulled off my right glove.

Looking back, I should have realized that it was dumb of me to take off my mitten, but it was hard to eat with it on! I was distracted from my lunch though as a boy – Greg, I think – about my age "drove" over to me, carrying a little toy in his hands, stopping in front of me while making the sound of screeching brakes.

"Are you a freak?" he asked curiously, staring at me. Like all the kids, he was curious about me but he was the only one to talk to me. The only one besides Sybil, Chuck, and Lydia.

"I don't know," I answered with uncertainty.

"I guess you don't look like one," he said.

"Thanks," I replied with a smile. All I could think was, 'He likes me, he actually likes me! I made a friend!' God, I was so happy! That was when the bell rang.

"Okay, kids, inside! Inside now," Lydia called from the academy, clapping her hands. As all the other kids started to run up to her, I struggled to stand up. As soon as I did, Greg offered me the car he had been playing with.

"You can hold on to this, if you want," he said, and I couldn't help but smile. He smiled back as I reached for the car with my ungloved hand. God, I was so stupid.

"GWEN!" Lightning arced from my hand and into Greg as soon as I touched the toy. The strike threw him backwards, about ten feet away from me. "NO," Lydia cried out.

All I could think to do was back away from the smoking, melted toy car lying on the ground. It had fallen from Greg's hand as he flew way. As Lydia ran to Greg, lying in a lifeless heap on the ground, all the other kids ran inside, screaming and crying. Sybil and Chuck came the next day to take me home. That was in Gills Rock, just four hours from my house. October 28, 1985.

I'll never forget that day, never.

P.S.: Four pages total.


	2. Home Away From Hell

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 2: Home Away From Hell**

I've been in this school for about two hours now, so I think now is a good enough time to wander. The place honestly can't even be called a school. There aren't even any students! Well, none that wanted to talk me anyway. During the grand tour, which was lacking in the grand department, Mr. Lensherr and Mr. Xavier assured me that they're just wary of new people. I know that's a lie. It's more than being cautious. The other kids can just sense that I'm different from them, dangerous.

Hell, my winter clothing in the middle of summer is enough to tell them I'm a weirdo.

Mr. Lensherr is very nice to me. He's like a father – a real father. Best of all, he can actually touch me! I freaked out when he took off my hood; I thought for sure he was going to get shocked for sure, but he wasn't. When I asked him about it, he said it was because his power canceled out mine and vice versa. I don't really understand, but it's great. He's the first person I've ever been able to touch. It's so freaking great! Mr. Xavier told me that Mr. Lensherr is to be my personal teacher when it comes to controlling my curse.

First step: Realize that my curse isn't a curse, but a gift. Good luck with that one.

I don't know why I'm so happy all of a sudden. This place is just going to end up like home and Gills Rock. I'll be gone in a week, I'm sure of it. The only thing is I'm not sure that I want to leave. I'm sitting outside by a fountain, contemplating my total lack of a social life outside an old man with a fetish for metals, when I hear footsteps.

"Hi!"

I look up to see a boy about my age. Besides his weird red glasses, this scene is all too familiar. I have to get away from him, now.

"I'm Scott Summers," he says, holding out his hand to me. Yeah, I've got to go. Standing up, I slowly back away from him. "Um, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. I just…well, I have the room across from you, and I noticed that you were new and sitting alone out here. I just thought I'd come and say hi, so…hi," he says with an awkward smile and shrug, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I'm…I'm Gwen, Gwen Raiden," I say, moving close enough so he can't touch me. He's cute, and those glasses give him a sense of mystery. He seems nice, but what do I know? "Yeah, I'm new. I just got here a little while ago."

"Well, I saw you with Professor Lensherr earlier. Did he show you around?" So what if he did? I shake my head. "Come on, then! I'll show you around," he says, reaching out to grab my hand.

"NO!" I shout frantically, backing away from him. I look at him, terrified, and see he's blushing in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, it's just…I can't…I'm not allowed to touch people," I tell him quietly.

"It's okay. I can't see people," he admits, and I look at him in shock. Scott just smiles at me. "Well, not in any other color but red. If I ever take these off, I could fire a hole in the earth. Ocular energy beams and all," he explains. "These glasses Professor Xavier made me protect everyone around me."

"Same with my gloves, but they don't work very well." It's true. Sometimes I'll get so juiced up that a few bolts will just fly right through the gloves.

"What's your power?" he asks, leading me away from the fountain and back towards the school.

"I generate and manipulate electricity, " I answer, looking at the ground.

"Cool!" he says enthusiastically as we enter the back door and go down a hall, passing a group of kids in the living room playing games. "Anything else?"

"Well, I can create some pretty powerful and damaging electric blasts," I tell him shyly. Honestly, I'm a little shocked that someone finds my curse – sorry, gift – so interesting. "I can also manipulate and control whatever electronic devices I come in contact with, even suck the energy out of them."

"Not bad," he tells me, impressed. "More interesting than blowing things up." Scott smiles at me, and I smile back.

Scott didn't try to hold my hand for the rest of the day. He showed me around the school, and even introduced me to a few of the other students. One girl, Ororo Munroe, has the room next to me and can even create electricity, too. She's called the school's local Weather Witch, changing the weather whenever it suits the student body's or the garden's needs. She said that Professor Xavier has told her to stop, since sudden changes like that draw attention to other mutants, the kind that might hurt us.

"So, how long have you been here?" I ask him, sitting next to him at a table by ourselves for dinner.

"Almost a year. My brother, Alex, is eight and I just turned fourteen," he answers. Alex, that must've been the little blonde haired boy with little gloves covering his hands who waved at Scott earlier. "How about you?"

"I don't know how long I'll stay. I'm usually never in places like this for too long, but…I guess it's not all bad," I tell him with a small smile. "I won't be fourteen until next month."

"Hey, Gwen, do you…I mean, well, what I mean to say is, have you ever had a boyfriend?" Scot asks, looking around the busy cafeteria distractedly.

"No, why," I inquire curiously. Why would he ask that?

"No reason," he replies quickly, and I notice him smile a little bit. What is wrong with him? "This spaghetti sure is good, huh?" Before I could even answer, Ororo came over with a reddish-brown haired girl and sat down next to me. The other girl sat next to Scott.

"Hey, Gwen," Ororo greeted happily, "this is my friend, Jean Grey," she introduces, nodding to Jean, who nods back.

"Hi, I'm Gwen Raiden," I say, smiling at the redhead, happy at the prospect of a new friend.

"Hi," Jean greeted shortly, before looking at Scott. "Hello, Scott," she says dreamily.

"Hey, Jean," Scott replied, far too engrossed in his food to pay her any mind.

Ororo and Jean sat down, and I just went back to eating. After a few moments, I saw Ororo trying not to laugh and, wondering what was so funny, I gave my dark skinned friend a strange look. Ororo just nodded discreetly in Jean's direction, and that was when I saw Jean sneaking glances at Scott every now and then.

Jean has a crush on Scott, just like me. Why would Scott ever want me when he could have Jean, someone he could actually touch?

After dinner is finished, I go back to my room and set about my favorite pass time, drawing. Whenever I draw, I have to use rubber-encased pens. Something in rubber cancels out my lightning, but I'm not really sure what. Mr. Lensherr bought me some special pencils though, left them with a note on my bed. Back home, I could never draw in pencil because they would burn into cinders. Thanks to Mr. Lensherr, I can finally erase mistakes instead of starting over. I've been drawing the landscape outside my window until I hear a knock at my door. Why would anyone want to see me? Opening it, I'm a little more than shocked to find Scott on the other side.

"Hey," I greet confusedly.

"Hi," he replies, shuffling on his feet nervously.

"Is something wrong, Scott?" I ask uncertainly, looking at him oddly. "Is everything okay? Do you need something?"

"Sort of," he replies, though he still sounds nervous. "Um, Gwen, do you…um, would you be willing…I…what I'm trying to say is, would you want to go see a movie sometime, with me?" Scott looks at his feet, so he doesn't see me smile. He likes me! He likes _me,_ not Jean! "God, what am I thinking? Of course you don't! You just got here and –"

"Scott," I interrupt happily, and he looks up, "I'd love to go out with you." Scott smiles and gives a breath of relief as I laugh quietly.

"Great! So, um, do you need any help unpacking?" he asks, pointing to the boxes still taped up.

"Yeah, Scott, that would be great. Thanks."

"Not a problem. It's what I'm here for, heavy lifting," he tells me jokingly and I smile back. He is too sweet!

P.S.: Four pages total.


	3. Deadly Accident

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

Thanks to XchocolateChipX and xlovexmex!

**Chapter 3: Deadly Accident**

"Gwen, might we speak to you for a moment?" Xavier asks, and I look between the two old men I've actually come to respect cautiously.

"Okay," I say slowly, rising from my seat on the couch, where I'd been watching a movie with Scott, Ororo, and a few others to walk with them. "Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble?" I ask worriedly.

"Oh, no, Gwendolyn! Nothing of the sort," Mr. Lensherr assures me with a kind smile, and I instantly relax. "You see, my dear, we need your help."

""Help"?" I echo confusedly, looking at them with a small smile. What are they, crazy? "How could I possibly help you?"

"You can help us a great deal, Gwen," Xavier says with a kind smile, and he leads me to the elevators that lead to the lower levels. There's not much down there, besides medical and the gym. "You see, with my telepathy, I can locate mutants in need in the local area, sometimes even a few states away. But, in cases like yours and Ororo's, the mutation is so strong that I can sense it over a great distance."

"So you sensed me all the way on the other side of the country and Ororo in Africa? That's how you found us?" I ask with uncertainty. I thought my parents had heard of him, not that he found me.

"Exactly," he verifies with a nod.

"Unfortunately, as powerful as Charles may be, he's having troubles locating mutants," Mr. Lensherr adds with a smile, and I can hear his teasing tone easily.

"Erik and I have been working on a machine that would allow me to connect with the minds of people all over the world," Xavier explains, and I look at him confusedly. What does this have to do with me? "There's a large number of mutants out there that need our help, and I think you may be able to help us finish our machine to do so, Gwen."

After we reach the lower levels, they take me to the spot where they had already begun construction. The room is just one giant sphere with a few metal plates scattered all over the place. There's a ramp as well, leading to some sort of computer – at least, I think it's a computer. The Professor and Mr. Lensherr explain to me their plans for this room, this Cerebro. Still, all of their plans didn't tell me how I'm supposed to help them. When I ask them about that, they tell me that they didn't have an energy source large enough to power it.

I know exactly why they needed my help now, before they even have to explain it. Okay, I admit it. I'm a little scared. I tell them to go to Ororo and ask her. After all, she can control lightning much better than I can, and she's been at the school longer; she has control, I don't. So why didn't they ask her? Well, to answer that, they remind me that Ororo can only power the machine if they want to blow a hole in the roof of the school.

"You're the only mutant in the school with enough power to do what we need," Xavier explains gently, a comforting hand on my shoulder as I think things over. "Enough power"? Yeah, that's me, the human battery.

"Okay, I'll help," I reply, albeit reluctantly, and nod slowly. The Professor and Mr. Lensherr smile at one another, and Mr. Lensherr pats my shoulder affectionately.

So, I help and I get to see what two Class Four mutants can do first hand. The Professor works on Cerebro computer thing, with me keeping it powered up for him, while Mr. Lensherr floats and molds metal onto the blank spots on the walls.

Two days down and things are going so well! I actually have some control and have started to keep a nice flow going for the Professor. Cerebro is almost finished!

It's been four days now, and my _curse_ had a major side effect. While I was helping Mr. Lensherr and Professor Xavier, I lost control. I was just so juiced and I thought I was controlling it so well but…I wasn't. It started to hurt. I started to burn. That had never happened before. My power had never actually backfired against me before!

The Professor has been in the medical wing for about three weeks now, recovering and in a medically induced coma – for the pain. Mr. Lensherr has taken over his classes and shares them with another mutant, Dr. McCoy.

Dr. McCoy is…well, very blue. As frightening as he is, he's very nice. He's been counseling me about the accident, although it feels more like I'm talking to a therapist. I hate those, but at least he actually has an idea of what I'm going through. He can actually relate!

He keeps telling me that it's not my fault, and Scott's been saying the same thing. Ororo hasn't really spoken to me at all. She's very quiet all the time now, and I only see her in class. The rest of the time, even during lunch, she's in the lower levels with the Professor. I guess it's because he's the father she never had. Ororo told me once about her past. She's a freaking princess! Well, sort of.

Her mother was a Kenyan princess named N'Dare. Her father was an African-American photographer named David Munroe. The three of them had been stationed in Egypt during some big war and a fighter jet crashed into her parent's house, killing them. She survived but, because was buried under tons of rubble, she developed intense claustrophobia. Professor X found her and brought her back to the school, saving her, I guess. Before that though, she used to be worshipped as a rain goddess in the desert!

How cool is that?

A week has passed and the Professor's back in business! Well, not really. Mr. Lensherr and I did complete Cerebro under his supervision though. I apologized to him for what happened, for not being like everyone else. I told him the truth, that I'm tired of hurting people. He told me, like so many others, that it's okay, but it's not! He says it wasn't my fault, but it was! Why did I have to be like this? What purpose does it serve? Is it a punishment?

Anyway, things are going back to normal. As normal as possible, anyway.

Ororo has finally started talking to be again, my training is going well, my grades are good, and Scott and I are okay. I mean, we've been together for two years now and we're happy. Scott makes me so unbelievably happy. He makes me smile, and laugh, and he doesn't pressure me into doing something that might hurt us – physically and emotionally.

This changed drastically after the accident though. Scott and I, well, we sort of dated. I don't know if you could call it dating though, since we couldn't really touch or…well, kiss. As long as I kept my gloves on, we were fine and we were always together. Scott never pushed me into something I didn't want to do while other people did.

Still, I feel so bad. After all, how many students can say they nearly killed their teacher? How many students can say they paralyzed their teacher?

It's all my fault, and all I can do is hope things will get better.

P.S.: Three pages total.


	4. Abandonment

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 4: Abandonment**

"You cannot take Gwen with you, Erik! I won't allow it!"

"You have no power over the girl, Charles. You haven't even the power to stand, old friend. If she wishes to come with me than she is free to do so."

"She is still a child, one you are trying to put in the middle of your war. If you had things your way, every one of these students would be a barbaric murderer for you to lead into battle. I won't let you take her."

"You cannot control her, Charles! You cannot force her mind to see me as you do! If she wishes to come with me then she may! What are you going to do, ground her? Lock her in her room? Please. Be reasonable. I've trained the girl for almost four years. I'm the father she deserved and always needed. What are you, besides a reminder of just how damaging her powers really are?"

"I am her guardian. Her parents, while signing the check for Gwen's tuition, also signed adoption papers. I am Gwen's rightful guardian, and I won't allow you to take her."

"I believe we should leave that to Gwendolyn. She is, after all, sixteen. That seems to be old enough for her to make her own decisions."

"If you try to take that girl from this school, old friend, then I just may have to put in a cell with my dear brother. You remember Cain, don't you? The Juggernaut?"

"This is not the end, Charles. Gwendolyn _will_ be at my side, one way or another."

"And I will always be there to pull her back."

-----------------------------

This has been the worst week ever!

First, Mr. Lensherr leaves! He told me he wished he could take me with him but couldn't. Why, he wouldn't say. I guess I'm not old enough to know. Yeah, right! Plus, I'm flunking Economics and Physics. I never was good at school. I'm not book smart, I never was. Street smarts though? I've got that coming out my ass!

The best part of my day is waiting just around the corner: Scott. He asked me to meet him in the living room so we could go into the city to see a movie. Hopefully, Scott will be able to cheer me up some. Maybe we could finally try kis…

Oh, my God.

"Oh, my God!" I exclaim. Scott whips around from the couch to stare at me, his mouth opening and closing like some kind of fish out of water. Jean is just sitting there, head hung and hair covering her face. Maybe she's smiling. I bet she is, the bitch.

"Gwen, it's not what you think," Scott says jumping off the couch and running to me. I quickly back away into the hall.

"I don't want to here it," I tell him. "We're over!" I turn and walk away from him, heading toward the front door.

"Gwen, please!" Scott begs, and I stop and turn to look at him tearfully.

""Please"!" I echo angrily. There are no tears falling. There are never any tears falling. Erik taught me better than that. I have to be hard. "Are you kidding me?"

"I never meant to hurt you, Gwen," he says, looking at pathetically. If I could see his eyes, I'd bet he'd look genuinely sorry. God, I wish I didn't…like him so much.

"Right, it just happened, like magic, as if you had no control, no choice but to kiss her!" I retort angrily, laughing. "You always have a choice, Scott! There's always a choice and you just…ugh! I can't even talk to you right now!" I exclaim, turning quickly and walking away from him.

"Gwen, please!" he begs again, and I feel him grab my arm at the glove. Angrily, I rip my other glove off and turn around, holding my hand open and charged near his face.

"You do not want to touch me right now," I warn him. I can feel myself quaking as I threaten him and he slowly releases me. I lower my hand and sigh shakily, trying not to cry as I take a breath.

"Gwen…I'm sorry…"

"You're sorry? Well, that just makes everything okay now, doesn't it? You're sorry!" I shout. "I trusted you! I told you everything, and you just…I don't even…God, I can't even look at you right now," I breathe and stumble backwards, trying to get as far away from him as possible. "Do us both a favor and just stay away from me!"

An hour and a half later, I'm wandering around the city. So I jolted Scott's car to get here, big deal. Serves him right. Hell, I could've blown the damn thing up if I didn't need it so damn badly. People bump into me as I walk against the flow of traffic. Who cares? Nothing matters anymore. Mr. Lensherr's abandoned me, Scott's abandoned me, and Ororo and the Professor probably will, too. After all, she's Jean's friend and Jean's the Professor's favorite. Why wouldn't they join the club and leave me?

God damn it! This has been the worst week ever!

-----------------------------

Two years.

It's been two years now since Scott and I broke up. He's been with Jean since then. I was wrong about Ororo and the Professor. Actually, Ororo's been my best friend since Scott's been…unavailable. As for the Professor, he's been great! Not as great as Erik was, but great nonetheless. Now, it's graduation. The Professor has given each student ahead of me their diploma and a name for some team of his, a team to fight for humanity.

Lance Alvers: Avalanche. He's not joining the team.

Alison Blaire: Dazzler. College in the U.K. and something about Excalibur. She wasn't too clear on that part.

Jean Grey…well, so everyone didn't get a name. College, then back to the Institute.

Pietro Maximoff: Quicksilver. Nope. He said something about joining up with his father, whoever the hell that is – he's tight lipped about that kind of stuff – and some group called the House of Magnus.

Wanda Maximoff: Scarlet Witch. No way in hell is she staying; her words, not mine. She's moving to the west coast to do God knows what.

Ororo Munroe: Storm. She wouldn't leave this school unless she had to. Same as Jean.

John Proudstar: Thunderbird. Already enlisted in the Marines. Semper Fi, motherfucker!

Calvin Rankin: Mimic. Again, no. He thought he'd make a killing as a comedian. Actually, he said he wanted to go find Erik. How, I have no idea. The old man's done a good job of hiding so far since my searches have been lax.

Scott Summers: Cyclops. Same as 'Ro and Jean.

Alex Summers: Havok. Moving back to his foster parents in Honolulu. He plans on getting a degree in geophysics at the university there. What the hell he's gonna do with that, I don't know.

Mortimer Toynbee: Toad. Nuh-uh. He'll stalk Wanda till the end of time.

Shiro Yoshida: Sunfire. He has some mutant friend way down south, Remy something – something Creole sounding – that set him up with tuition and an apartment. Gone for good, but he said he might visit.

Now, it's my turn.

"You will be called Kaminari, Kay for short, if you like," he says, smiling up at him.

"Kaminari, as in the Japanese Thunder Woman?" I ask, shaking my head with a small smile. Kaminari, Thunder Woman, Heaven's Noise, take your pick. What's in a name?

"Yes. I remember you reading about her a few weeks ago. You were so enthralled, I thought it appropriate," he explains and I shake my head again, confused. What was he thinking, giving me this name?

"Why would you name me that? I'm no deity, and I'm not strong like…" Jean. If I was strong like her and could control my power, and maybe Scott and I would still be together. "…Like her," I say slowly. God, how pathetic am I?

"Because, I have faith that you will find your strength and place in this world," he says. I just stare at him, almost glaring. "I figured you wouldn't be comfortable with that, so I had a second option in mind: Livewire."

His voice sounds almost melodious, kind and caring as it always does. But his words are as feeble and twisted as an old woman's. I have no strength. I don't have a place in the world except under the feet of normal people. I may have survived this long, but nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change.

_Things will change for you, Gwen, I promise,_ he whispers in my mind. Sneaky bastard.

"Well, you can keep your promises, _Chuck_," I sneer mockingly. "I'm not staying in New York."

"Gwen –"

"No, 'Ro, not another lecture," I plead, looking at her with sad eyes. She'll be one of the people I'll miss, but I've already made my choice. "I'm not joining this team of yours, Chuck. I'm going to L.A."

"I see," he sighs, looking at the ground briefly before looking back up at me. "And there is nothing I can do to change your mind?"

"Afraid not," I reply and pull the plane ticket out of my pocket. "One way. I bought it yesterday."

"Well, in that case, I wish you the best of luck." The Professor holds his hand out to me, and I shake it with a bemused smile. The gloves protect him, thankfully. Just before Erik left I was learning to release shocks through the gloves. I finally got control. I finally have control. Nothing can touch me now…well, metaphorically speaking.

No power in the universe can stop me.

_**A/N: **_If you're wondering why there was nothing by talking in the first half, it's because Gwen wasn't there. I wanted to add something with just the two original teachers with no thoughtful interpretations of Gwen's to interfere.

P.S.: Four pages total.


	5. Lost Angel

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

Thanks to XChocolateChipX and TheCocoaBean! 

**Chapter 5: Lost Angel**

1994

No power in the universe can stop me. Yeah, well, I guess I was a little too confident. Still I made it to L.A.

Los Angeles, the City of Lost Angels. It's definitely the place for me.

As soon as I got off the plane and out of the airport, I knew that things would be different. This is the city where everyone goes to get lost, to forget, to find fame or find their true selves. This is the place where I'm going to find the real me, the me that I was forced to hide behind the gloves, the coats, and the scarves. I can finally be who I've always wanted to be, and that starts with an entirely new wardrobe. But, first things first, I needed a job and a place to live.

I guess that's how I ended up at Pussycat's, the strip club a few miles south of the airport. I have five dances a night, no lap or private dances – no matter how much the man may offer – and I live above the club. Joey, the bouncer, takes care of me. He makes sure I'm settled and everything is locked up before he leaves. He's a good man, kind of reminds me of Dr. McCoy…only black, not blue, without the fur, not a genius who quotes dead poets, and a total norm. Still, he's a nice guy, like a big brother to all us girls.

About a year later, I finally had enough money to move out of the club and into an apartment in the industrial district. No need for a car, since I walk everywhere. Keeps up my figure, which keeps me in a job. A few girls have left the club, going onto more normal and stable jobs, like banks, or go back to school. Forget them, who needs them? I sure as hell don't! Still, life could be better. I miss Ororo, and Dazz, and Lance, and Alex, and Scott.

Scott.

God, I haven't really thought about him since I came here. I'll bet anything that he's all nice and cozy with Jean, still at the school or off at college. No, I can't think about him, about them. That place, that part of my life, is over. It's dead and gone, and I can never go back there. There's no way.

"Well, I never expected to find you here, Gwendolyn."

That voice, that name. The only person in the world who has ever called me by my full name was…

"E-Erik," I stutter, turning around to see him sitting at a table by himself. I'm a waitress tonight in my usual outfit, the ankle boots, fishnets, leather boy shorts, and blue bikini top with a white shirt tied just under my breasts. And the gloves, of course. I never forget the gloves.

My mentor is the last person I expected to see sitting in the club. What is he doing here? How did he find me? Did he go to the Professor and use Cerebro? No, Erik told me that he wasn't allowed back at the school ever, for anything. Are there other mutants here? Are other students here? Oh, my God! If my old classmates are here, I think I might just die! I don't want them to see me like this! Well, Scott maybe, so he can see that I've got what Jean never had, but that's it! How can Erik just be sitting there, completely calm?

"Well, don't just stand there gawking at me," he scolds good naturedly, looking up at me from under the brim of his hat. "Join me, Gwendolyn."

"It's just Gwen, Erik. You know that," I tell him, setting the tray of drinks down at the table before sitting across from him.

"Well, this is a charming spot," he comments, looking around the club with what he hopes is a casual look. I just smile and shake my head.

"Liar," I say.

"I don't lie, my dear. I fib, it's much more classy," he tells me.

"I can still read you like a book, Erik, and you're still a bad liar," I reply, and he laughs.

"Quite right, quite right. I'd forgotten how observant you are."

"Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you just up and leave, never calling, never writing. The mind forgets little things when you don't see a person for, how long has it been?" I ask him mockingly before pretending that it's just come upon me. "Oh, right, almost five, six years, right?"

"I deserve your anger, admittedly, but I don't deserve that pout," he states, smiling slowly at me. I could never resist Erik. He's my father, so I start to smile with him. "There's my girl! Now, down to business. What are you doing in this…depressing setting?"

"It's the best job a nineteen year old can get without getting into porn, Erik," I tell him. "It's the best I could get."

"Oh, certainly a young, beautiful girl with your talents could do something more…lucrative," he says coyly.

"' Lucrative'?" I echo skeptically. "Erik, what are you getting at?"

"Mystique, would you care to join us?" he calls over his shoulder.

That was when Raven, the club's bestseller, strutted over from the bar. Her short black hair was perfectly straight and her green eyes were always shinning brightly, as if she had some big secret, and her body! Well, let's just say that if I swung the other way, I'd be paying for Raven every night. But why did Erik call her Mystique?

"Gwen, I'd like you to meet Mystique. She's been keeping an eye on you for me," Erik explains, smiling at Raven with an arm around her waist. I look over at Raven in confusion, but she just smirks and her eyes flash – FLASH – yellow!

"Mutant," I mutter, inhaling sharply. "What the hell is this, Erik?"

"I'm only looking out for your best interest, darling," he says kindly, but he sounds so damn condescending. "Mystique here has been reporting back to me on you, and she seems to think you'd make a great asset to our little family."

"What kind of family?" I ask, looking between the two carefully. "Something like the school?"

"Oh, no! No, my dear! Goodness no!" He laughs, Raven laughing with him as she hugs his shoulders. God, this is disgusting! Erik's old enough to be my grandfather, and Raven's old enough to be my sister! "No, this is nothing like Charles' little school. No, this is better, _much_ better. A brotherhood of mutants, aligned against the race of human man, who would try to harm us."

"Erik, are you sure you're in your right mind?" I ask him cautiously. I'm really worried about the man. The way he's talking, it sounds like he talking about a war. Actually, now that I think about it, that's pretty normal.

"I have been thinking of this since the day you helped Charles and I finish Cerebro," he replies seriously. "Well, technically, I've been thinking of this since I was put in a concentration camp when I was younger than you are now, but that's besides the point, my dear."

"And what _is_ the point, Erik?" I ask impatiently.

"This point is this, darling: Mystique is going to train you." Okay, now I'm really confused. "I need your help and while your gift will be very helpful, I need you to be able to defend yourself properly. Mystique will help you there, and in other areas of shall we say…shifty expertise."

"'Shifty '?"

"Yes. You see, this city is in need of a person who can procure certain objects, with great care mind you, without getting caught by the police and are willing to pay hefty sums of money. I know people who are need of a professional."

"You mean a thief," I correct. "I'm no thief, Erik. I wouldn't even know where to begin!"

"That is where Mystique will come in and help you. She takes so many shapes," he says comfortingly. "You could make more money doing what I'm asking once than an entire year here," he explains, looking around the club in disdain. "You do this for me and not only will I get you out of this hole, but I will get you a decent living space, one with proper security to match Charles' little school, and you will be well taken care of. What do you say, Gwendolyn?"

I look between Erik and Raven – Mystique – and think. This does sound very good. I wouldn't be risking exposure as a mutant in the club anymore. I could feel safe when I go to sleep at night. I wouldn't have to scrap by for food or the bills. I could finally be doing something with my powers. I could finally embrace my gift, just like Erik and the Professor taught me, instead of hiding.

"Where do we start?" I ask. Erik just looks up at Mystique, who looks down at him, and they both smile wickedly.

What the hell have I gotten myself into now?

P.S.: Four pages total.


	6. Senatorial Showdown

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

Thanks to my most loyal (and basically only) reviewer XChocolateChipX!

**Chapter 6: Senatorial Showdown**

2002

Well, Erik was right. He came through on everything he promised, and I'm living the good life. Hell, I'm living the life I used to have, before Sybil and Chuck dumped me. After I toasted a few maids, the chef, the butler, the Academy incident, and getting struck by lightning about nine times, they got sick of me. My little trust fund was non-existent after all that shit, and my entire childhood was erased. To them, after they unloaded me on Erik and the Professor, I was dead. Hell, I still am dead!

Actually, I'm surprised the Professor didn't give me the boot when lightning hit me those five times at the school.

But that doesn't matter now, because Mystique has taught me everything I need to know to be a great thief. I haven't heard from either of my teachers in two years, but I know that they're out there making plans. Besides, I wouldn't be getting all the jobs I have if they weren't keeping tabs on me. Erik always hears about someone needing a job done, and he always highly recommends a certain professional: me.

"In every organism on Earth there exists a mutator gene: the X-factor, as it has come to be known. It is the basic building block of evolution, the reason we have evolved from homo habilus to homo erectus, to Neanderthals, and, finally, to homo sapiens."

That voice, it sounds familiar…_annoyingly_ familiar. Moving quickly into my living I see that the big flat screen is on the news. The corner of the TV says Washington D.C., and the woman whose voice was holding over the proceedings is exactly who I thought she was. She's speaking before the Senate, on mutant rights no doubt. After all, that's her job now: Jean Grey, Genetically Enhanced Rights Association.

Or so the placard before her states.

I can't help but stare at her. Strong, attractive, touchable – no wonder Scott left me. Stupid bitch. I hope she trips on her way down those stairs in those ridiculous heels. Give me a pair of combat boots any day.

As much as I hate it, I can't bring myself to turn the channel. Mutants are either well-hidden or nonexistent in LA, and I've been busy these last few years. I've been totally cut off from the mutant world; I guess it would be nice to get caught up.

Footage reflects the various stages of human evolution on a screen behind her. Accompanying it is a graph with a diagonal line indicating the ascent of the "human being" as we know it. Accompanying the graph is evolving images of the "evolution of man".

God, could Jean be anymore literal with this damn thing?

The animated demo on the screen zooms in on the lowest order of human depicted: homo habilus, a primitive, ape-like humanoid covered in hair. As he is singled out, the terrain of his time appears, along with the harsh signs of his winter.

If that primitive were blue, I would think he's Doc McCoy's brother.

"_Taking its cues from the climate, terrain, various sources of nourishment, the mutator gene tells the body when it needs to change to adapt to a new environment. The process is subtle, normally taking thousands of years,_" she explains.

The graphics change to depict a warmer climate. The hair starts to disappear on the man's body, gradually evolving into the human we now know as ourselves. The terrain is now modern, the weather pleasant. The image pulls back and places this man back in line at the front of evolution.

Well, Jean has a flair for the dramatics. Nice to see some things never change.

"_Only in the last few thousand years did mankind begin to make clothes for himself, build shelters, use heat and grow food in large quantities. With this man-made environment remaining relatively stable, the X-factor became dormant,_" she continues.

A stream of quick shots flash behind her: early huts, early clothing; then early homes, later homes, air conditioning, cars, modern high- rises, etc. Yup, dramatic! Good God, woman! Get to the damn point! Nobody needs or wants a history lesson!

"_Until now._"

The screen shows the words "PRESENT DAY", where the "evolution line" has resumed its rise. Again with the literal! Stupid bitch!

"_For reasons still not known to us, we are seeing what some are calling the beginnings of another stage in human evolution. __The mutations appear during puberty, and are often triggered during periods of high emotional stress._"

"_You're avoiding the question I posed to you at the beginning of the hearing, Ms. Grey,_" a microphoned voice interrupts.

Bearing down from his seat is the very flamboyant Senator Scott "Frank" Kelly, or so the screen says. He looks like your typical government dog. I remember hearing Erik complain about him once. Kelly is a conservative from Florida, and this hearing's Chairman apparently. Conservatives make me sick. I'd like to see them deal with me!

"_Three words: Are mutants dangerous?_" Yes, yes, we are.

"_I'm afraid, that's an unfair question, Senator, and __I am avoiding a question that is decidedly loaded. The wrong person behind the wheel of a car can be dangerous,_" Jean retorts pointedly.

"_Well, we do license people to drive,_" Kelly replies reasonably.

"_Yes, but not to live!_" Kelly raises a hand, and I can already tell he's going to continue his tirade. Stupid fucking normie.

"_Ms. Grey, you work at a school for mutants in Westchester, New York. Can you tell the members of this committee what exactly you are teaching these mutants?_" he asks. God, he is _so_ playing for the crowd. It's a trap, and Jean's stupid enough to walk into it.

"_Math. History. Science. English. Athletics –_"

"_You wouldn't happen to be teaching them how to use their powers to –_"

"_Control, Senator,_" she states forcefully. I knew she would walk into it! "_We teach them control._" And _you_ got a Master's Degree in how to ruin other people's lives while you were there. Stupid bitch.

Kelly raises a blown-up photograph: a grainy, super-zoomed, somewhat obscured image of a car on a freeway, which appears to have melted. Oh, now he's really playing to the crowd. Typical!

"_This was taken by a state police officer in Secaucus, New Jersey. A man in a minor altercation literally melted the car in front of him. I don't know where you come from, Ms. Grey, but where I come from, you don't go melting people's cars when they cut you off. You do it the old fashioned way – you give 'em the finger,_" he says with a smirk, and the crowd laughs. More morons. But, then again, what are politicians but a bunch of morons? "_But what you presume to tell this committee –_"

"_I presume nothing,_" Jean states defensively. "_I am here to tell you that in time, the mutator gene will activate in every living human being on this planet. Perhaps even _your_ children, Senator._"

Wrong way to go, dumb ass!

"_I can assure you, there is no such creature in my genes,_" Kelly replies, glaring at her. The room laughs, and Kelly stupidly thinks it is for him, until the double meaning occurs to him. Moron! He's momentarily embarrassed, but he quickly recovers like a true slime ball.

"_Senator, the records_ clearly _show that mutants who have chosen to revealed themselves to the public have been widely regarded with fear and suspicion, even violence_," Jean replies pointedly. Well, no shit. Everyone's hates us!

I can hear the murmurs of dissent. Kelly himself is only listening with half an ear. Some little tool passes him some information into his hand. Those papers are either porn or something else because Kelly looks pretty happy to see them.

"_It is_ because _of this violence that I urge you all to vote against mutant registration. Forcing mutants to expose themselves will only –_"

""_Expose themselves"?_" Kelly echoes, rising to his feet. "_What is it the mutant community has to hide?_" Nothing that concerns you, you fucking Nazi.

"_I didn't say they were hiding –_"

"_Well, let me show you what is being hidden, Miss Grey._" He takes out a paper, and turns towards the crowd. Great, another dog and pony show.

"_Senat –_" Sorry, Jeanie, but he ain't listening to you anymore.

"_I have here records of mutants living in the United States._" WHAT THE FUCK! Isn't that like an invasion of privacy? "_Here's a girl in Illinois who can walk through walls. What's to stop her from walking into a bank vault? Or into the White House? Or into their houses?_" he questions, waving an arm towards the crowd. What a prick.

"_And I have even heard, Miss Grey, that there are mutants so powerful that they can enter our minds and control our thoughts…taking away our God-given free will._" You're talking to one right now, dick head. "_I think the American people have a write to decide if they want to send their _children_ to go to school with mutants. To be _taught_ by mutants._" Great, the crowd is cheering. Again. "_Ms. Grey, we are not here to weed out mutants. The Registration Act is designed merely to assess their potential threat, if any, to national security._"

The crowd reacts loudly in support of the Senator. Some cheer, some roar, some yell obscenities at Jean. She just walks away from her podium, pushing her way through reporters now moving in for her response. All the while, Kelly is delivering his last words.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, the truth is that mutants are_ very _real. And they are among us. We must know who they are, and most importantly, we must know what they can do!_"

An angry mob is outside the Senate hearing as the camera switches to follow Jean. Voices roar in dissent when Jean emerges, coming down the steps of the Capital building without hesitation. She's looking at the signs condemning mutants, a scarce few supporting them. A group of reporters are behind her and more meet her in front, closing her in with their microphones shoves in her face.

"_Dr. Grey, how do you feel about the Senator's Statement?_" She would never say. She's took much of a goody-fucking-two-shoes-prude to do something like that.

"_How is the mutant community reacting?_" We're pissed and want to kill you all. Isn't that obvious? I mean, when we're attacked and defend ourselves _we're_ the ones that get thrown in jail, not the other guy.

"_Is it true that mutants are dangerous?_" Hell yes!

"_Is there a mutant plot to overthrow the government?_" Not as of yet, but thanks for the idea!

Jean, of course, ignores them all and continues to try pushing through. All of a sudden, the crowd falls silent. Totally silent. Absolutely silent. All eyes watch in awe as a soda can, that had apparently been thrown at Jean, is frozen mid-air just a few inches from her face, its liquid trailing. It's simply hovering.

"_We're not the ones to be afraid of,_" Jean states calmly.

Using her telekinesis, she slowly lowers the can to the ground. Jean shakes her head, almost ashamed of the display, almost as if to say "I didn't want to do that". The can rolls down the steps, and people move away from it as though the can itself were dangerous. The crowd step back in genuine fear, but all Jean does is simply move ahead, unimpeded, still shaking her head. Stupid fucking normies. They should be afraid.

"Stupid bitch," I mutter, shaking my head and shutting off the TV. What a stupid bitch!

P.S.: Five pages total.


	7. Long Distance Annoyance

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 7: Long Distance Annoyance**

Another day, another job. No rest for the wicked, as they say.

The job had been easy enough. Not as complex as some of my others, but I still had to get some mystical artifact for some guy looking for a professional. Quick, easy, no interruptions or unexpected problems – just the way I like it. Now I'm back at my loft, relaxing while Nick is away. The poor man's brother is ill, so I gave him as much time off as he needed. The quiet will be good for me. I haven't had quiet in a good long while. It'll be nice to not have to worry about anything to deal with for a change.

_'Gwen.'_

Okay, that's a new one.

"Hello?" I sit up in my bed and look around the room.

Massive bookcase? No one there. Bathroom? Door closed, lights off. No man would be comfortable in there anyway. Where else am I going to hang my thongs? Windows? Always locked and lined with cement. Dresser? I doubt anyone could fit in there. Closet? Huge, a walk-in, possible hiding place. I check. No one there. Front door? Locked and bolted. I check the rest of the loft – kitchen, closets, spare bathrooms, Nick's room – and find a big fat nothing.

"Okay, seriously, where are you?" I ask cautiously, looking around the room.

'_I'm where I've always been,'_ the voice said with a gentle laugh. Definitely a man. Why does he sound so familiar?

"Do I know you?"

'_Have you forgotten my voice already, Gwen? Have you forgotten how powerful I am?'_

What the hell? Who the hell does this guy think he is? And where the hell is he? How the hell is he doing this? It was a good trick a minute ago, now I'm just worried I'm going crazy.

"All right, now I'm really wigged out. Who the hell are you?" I _must_ be going crazy!

_'You're not going crazy, Gwen,' _he assures me. _'I always had faith that you would find your strength and place in this world, and you have…even if it's not ideal by societal standards.'_

"Professor?" I gasp incredulously. He said those exact same words to me at my graduation years ago! I should've known it was him, the telepathic bastard! "Chuck Xavier?"

_'I knew things would change for you, and so they have.'_

"You incredible bastard," I hiss, looking up at the ceiling, for lack of anywhere better to look. "You know I hate it when you invade my mind like this!"

_'I need to speak with you, Gwen. As soon as possible,'_ he says urgently. Sounds serious. Wow, funny how I don't care.

"Oh, did I do something wrong? Was I a bad girl?" I ask jokingly, smirking as I look around my room. Hell yes I've been a bad girl! How else can I afford to live like a millionaire without a real job?

_'I think you know the answer to that better than I,' _he replied, and I can hear the smile in his voice. _'No, Gwen, my dear, I need your help.'_

"_My_ help? How could I possibly help _you,_ great and powerful Chuck?" I question curiously, crossing my arms. "Oh, and I work on commission now, just so you know. My help doesn't come cheap."

_'I doubt even _I _could afford you.' _Did Chuck just make a joke? Good for him! Nice to see he's not the stiff he used to be. _'You're a very powerful mutant, Gwen, and I believe you may be in very real danger.'_

"Yeah, well, if any trouble comes my way I'll give 'em a nice little shock. Part of my charm," I retort bitterly, scoffing.

_'Yes, your charm as a human battery. That is one of the many things you called yourself, if I remember correctly. Am I right?'_ Okay, fine he has me there. Damn old man is scolding me from the other side of the country!

"Yes, but that's besides the point," I state, shaking my head and refocusing my attention. "Let's not 'Let's reminisce', all right? Get to the point. What's going on?"

_'I'll explain when you get here.'_

"When I get where?"

_'The school, of course.' _Oh, he must be senile!

"'The school'? Do you honestly think I'm going to fly across the country just to talk?" He _has_ to be senile! He can't honestly believe I'll do anything of the sort!

_'I know you will,' _he says confidently.

"Oh, and just how the hell do you know that?" I ask defiantly, almost snooty. Yeah, money can do that to a girl.

_'__I am psychic, you know,'_ he replies. He laughs again, and I grit my teeth. Incredible, annoying bastard.

"I'll be there in three or four days," I say, moving my hands over my eyes with a sigh. I can't believe I'm doing this.

_'__Your room will be waiting.'_

He's gone now. A person can always tell when a telepath leaves their mind. It's sort of like that tingle you get when your hands or feet go numb. The tingle lingers and then disappears. Mine, however, has decided to stick around for a bit. I guess it's because of the length of the chat, that or the long distance. Whatever, I have a headache and I need a stiff drink.

What the hell am I saying? I'm going back to New York, to my old school, where my two closest friends and archenemy, who I worked very hard to forget, are all living. I need more than one drink. I need a whole damn bar. Luckily, I just happen to have one.

P.S.: Three pages total.


	8. Checkmate

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

WandaXmaximoff: Gwen Raiden is a character that belongs to Joss Whedon. She's appeared in only three episodes of his former show, Angel. I loved her so much and thought she'd make a good crossover into the X-Men universe. Don't worry, I will be going into her relationship with Scott a little more when they reunite.

Thanks to XChocolateChipX, TheCocoaBean, and xlovexmex

**Chapter 8: Checkmate**

A train. God, how dumb was I when I decided to take a fucking train all the way from California to back to New York? Why did I do it? Oh, yeah! Because I wanted the trip to be as long and delayed as possible!

A conductor makes his way through my half filled car of commuters. Too bad he's already gone because the most annoying group of four guys, at least early twenties are annoying the hell out of me. They've been laughing behind me, talking about me and trying to convince one of their buddies to talk to me, for the last hour or so. Why not? I am, after all, a dark-eyed and somewhat distant creature. From my usual leather top and bottoms to my boots, layers of clothing wrap almost every inch of my body, what doesn't scream 'hit on me, I like it'?

Dumbasses.

I'm worn out, and I am in no mood. Next to me is my old dirty duffle bag, the same one I had when I first came to New York. The guys are staring at me again, making lewd comments here and there. Using my keen sense of observation, I see they're drinking from beer cans in paper bags and they've obviously been drinking for a while. Good God! These are those guys from college that used to get drunk and try to drown freshmen in toilets.

"Hey," one of the guys greets, nodding his head. He's cocky, confident, and in need to be knocked down a peg or two. I look at him and look away. Screw it. I've been bouncing back and forth from train to train for the past four days. I'm too tired to deal with this bull shit. "Hey. Hey, I'm talking to you!" Like I care. His friends laugh amongst themselves at my reaction. Go ahead and keep laughing. We'll see whose laughing when you're getting electroshock therapy, if you keep pushing.

"Where are you going?" another one asks, looking at my bag.

"Awww, look, guys! She's shy!"

"Maybe that's why she's alone. Is that why you're alone?" The forth leans toward me, and I grip the arms of my seat. "I'll keep you company." I stay silent and turn my back on him, trying to ignore him. No such luck, apparently. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" Look at me ignoring you! Awww, are you angry? Too fucking bad! His friends start to laugh at his failure.

"I said I'm talking to you!" I look down, trying not to look at them. Sadly, these guys won't be ignored. "I said…!" The one that was shouting at me reaches out and grabs my hand.

Big fucking mistake. I clench my fist and look up at him. His eyes are open wide as lighting goes through him, an instant later he collapses. It's been a recent development that I can forced my lightning through my gloves and, normally, it's a pain in the butt. I have to replace my gloves every time, but this was totally worth it. The jerk is convulsing on the floor and the three others stand up, angry. Great, just fucking great. I stand up as well, taking a few steps back.

"Hey, what did you do?"

"Don't touch me," I warn, moving to grab my bag but the ass blocks me.

"She's a mutant!"

I move to get my bag again, but the jerk that called me out as a freak shoves me. I fall to the floor of the train, wincing as I rise back to my feet. You must be faster than your enemy, as Mystique always says. One of the boys moves toward me, and I move to get away but he shoves me. I fall to the floor of the train again, right next to someone's feet. You know, you try to avoid a scene and look what happens? The jerk moves toward me again and, again, I stand up.

"How about you sit down and leave me alone, alright?" I threaten.

"You asking for mercy, doll face? You're a fucking mutant!" Right, we already went over that.

"Yeah, well, nobody's perfect," I reply with a careless shrug. "Look at you, all that brawn and no brain to make up for it. I bet you've got a dick the size of a tube of lipstick, too," I taunt easily.

"I think you should get the hell out of dodge, little girl, before we mess up your pretty face," the jerk says. Sound advice. After all, he is considerably larger that me. Funny how they simultaneously threaten and compliment me.

The drunk shoves me backward, but I quickly gather myself. Okay, now I'm pissed off! Sadly, the jerk I shocked is regaining consciousness. The other two jerks move to back –up their friend. It's now three against one, and all the passengers are watching. Just great. So much for a quiet trip.

"Listen, I don't want any trouble," I state calmly, but I'm clenching my fists.

"Well, you got trouble."

A fist slams into my stomach – DAMN THAT HURTS! I try to give myself a moment to recover by kicking his legs out from under him. He slams onto the train floor, and I suddenly feel a blow to my head. I turn around and look up, glaring and panting with an adrenaline rush. One of the other guys had grabbed a commuter's briefcase and hit me with it. It had, apparently, burst open and sent its contents flying everywhere.

Oh, great! The jerk I zapped is up! Well, come on then, ass wipe, join the party! He grabs me around my neck from behind. Yet another big fucking mistake. He's zapped again, fucking moron, because of the skin contact and I turn around to kick him in the stomach for good measure. One of the goons I guess figured out what was happening and grabbed me high on my arms, on my gloves, where I can't zap him. Fucking bastard! He holds me against his chest while the only ass left standing starts punching me in the stomach and face. Punches don't affect a person, I learned, because the contact is only there for a second. I'm taking quite a beating and, naturally, the entire fucking car of normies are sitting on their asses, doing nothing!

That's it!

I kick my feet out, my left foot striking the jerk punching me in the face and knocking him backward. I quickly bring my right foot straight back to hit the asshole holding me in the nose. I hear I crack; I'm pretty sure it's broken. Serves him right for touching me.

With my left hand, I reach down and grab him by the throat, squeezing his esophagus mercilessly.

I sent a few shocks through my gloves, so the dick wad is paralyzed now. His eyes roll up as the oxygen is cut off, and I watch with a smile creeping onto my lips as he simply stops breathing. I hear screaming and shouting and I straighten up to see two of the jerks running out of the car with the other passengers. About time they fucking left. How dumb do you have to be stay?

The only conscious ass on the floor starts coughing and I wheel around to look down at him.

"Please, don't get up on my account," I tell him sweetly, as if I'm entertaining a guest. A swift kick to the gut sends him back on the ground. "Nighty-night, sweetheart." I raise my fist, a surge of electricity covering my hand, ready to end this sucker's miserable existence. Fucking normies, so stupid.

"Freeze! Transit police! Drop your weapon!"

I pause, but only for a second. Stupid fucking cops! Christ, they have to ruin everything! There's never a cop when you need one, but they're always there when you're trying to work! Ugh! And to top it all off, the ass wipe I'm trying to beat the shit out of is wailing for his life.

"Hi, there. How are you this fine evening?" I ask sweetly, smiling at him, still hunched over the jerk.

Screw this. I pull my arm back again to finish what I started when the train starts to lurch violently. Along with the train, I go flying backwards straight into a fucking wall! The train was been brought to a sudden stop, and I rush to the window and peek outside. Well, that's odd. The wheels are still turning. How the hell is that even possible? Wait, there they go! They finally shut down…and now the lights are out. Pulling back inside the train I watch amusedly as the normies gather themselves closely together.

Pathetic!

This sound suddenly comes, this low grinding creak. It almost sounds like metal bending, but that's impossible. WHOA! Okay, I guess it's not so impossible since the rivets are popping and one just missed my head!

Like the top of a sardine can, the entire sidewall of the train car suddenly peels away. Oh, God, I know what's happening. There's only one person that can do this, and that person is here right now. Erik, along with Mystique and two other mutants, is standing outside. With a final thrust, the air ripples and the car wall is tossed to the side. Passengers from the other cars stare wide-eyed out their windows, and I'm shocked that they haven't screamed yet.

The train is still outside the city – around Jamestown, I think – out in the middle of nowhere. No one's coming to help us.

"You can come out now, Gwendolyn. You're among friends," Erik calls kindly. Shrugging, I move to grab my bag but check myself over. My trench coat and gloves are fried. Growling in frustration, I rip all three articles off, grab my bag, and start to walk toward the exit, stepping over cowering humans as I go.

"Freeze!" I turn around to see the stupid transit cop on his feet, gun branded. "What the hell…? I don't know whether to shoot or fall in love," he mutters, looking me up and down. Cop, bad girl in leather, typical cliché. Figures.

"You men, always confusing your pistols with your privates," I mused disdainfully and look back at Erik. "A little help here?"

With a turn of his finger, Erik draws the pistol to him. The cop tried to hold onto it, so tightly that his hands turned red, but he was yanked off the train – flying so quickly at me that I had to duck – and onto the ground. With another twist of his hand, I watch as Erik makes the gun leap from the cop's grasp to hover and point at its owner's head.

"You homosapiens and your guns," Erik says bitterly, and makes the gun cock.

"Stop!" I order calmly, jumping down from the train and striding over to him. "Look, I appreciate the concern, Erik, but I think you're drawing a bit too much attention," I tell him reasonably.

"Of course, my dear. Quite right," he agrees and the gun drops to the gun. He moves his hand to fix the train and starts to let it move once again. The cop just sits there a moment before a big hairy gun with claws and black eyes strides over to him.

"Run," he growls, straight into the cop's face. The cop, terrified, screams and starts to run after the moving train. Unable to help myself, I laugh at the sight before turning back to Erik.

"What are you doing here? Are you following me?" I question, dropping my bag and pulling out new gloves. After I pulled them on, always up the length of my arms, I cross my arms and jut out my hip. I like to call this my sassy pose.

"I'm simply doing what any concerned parental figure would do: ensuring your safety," he replies easily, walking over and hugging me. I can't help but smile. It's been a while since we did this, so I hug him back.

"Thanks, I guess," I say reluctantly and he pulls back, kissing my cheek. God, it's sad that the only person who can touch me is my mentor, an old man. If only there was a younger guy who had Erik's power, who could then cancel out my own power, who could touch me. Oh, well, a girl can dream. "But the whole show was a bit flashier than I imagined for you."

"All the better to frighten them away from you, my dear," he tells me with a crooked smile and laugh. I just raise my eyebrows at him, clearly saying that I'm not in the mood. I nod to Mystique, who smiles viciously but I know she doesn't mean me any harm. My gaze turns to the other two, and I look back at Erik pointedly. "Oh, yes!" he exclaims, catching my point. "This is Victor Creed, Sabretooth, and I believe you remember Toad."

"Mortimer," I greet with a nod to the green skinned man, a little shocked. Good God, do I remember him! I was hoping to never see him again. Then again, I'm shocked Wanda's not around. I thought Toad would be her permanent whipping boy.

"Gwen," he replies with a nod and smile, showing off his small teeth and thick clear gums. "You look as lovely as ever," he compliments.

"Thanks, you look…" Think of a word, think of a word, think of a word! "…Slimy," I say uncertainly. Nice word, dumb ass.

"I try," he replied, shrugging modestly. Wow, he's not even offended. What the hell is wrong with him?

"So, what's all this about?" I ask Erik.

"I heard from a reliable source that you were on your way back to New York," he answers, and I notice him look discreetly at Mystique, "to visit an old friend, as it were, and I'd hoped you might consider joining me." There's that charming smile again.

"Wow, that's your whole pitch?" I question sarcastically, and glow inwardly as Erik frowns. "Got to say, I was expecting more. I'm not really feeling wanted, Erik," I tell him, tsking in disappointment. "Thanks, but no thanks. I do better on my own. You taught me that."

"If I could only make you understand," he sighs disappointedly. "If you could just be made to see it the way I do. The way it's going to be."

"The way _what's_ going to be?" I ask curiously. What the hell is he going on about now?

"I'm going to change the world; I want you as a witness." Oh, God, not the war thing again.

"Sorry, but I'm only back for a small visit. If your "reliable source"," I began, looking a Mystique in annoyance, "was so good, then they would've known that. I don't want any part of your war, Erik. I didn't want any part way back when, I still don't now," I remind him pointedly, walking away from the group and pick up my bag. "You've helped me get a good life, and I'll always be grateful, but war is so…messy." I cringe and shiver in disgust just to prove my point. "It's not really my thing. Sorry."

"Checkmate, Gwendolyn," he murmurs. "You'll come around eventually. Our kind _always_ does."

P.S.: Six pages total.


	9. No Place Like Home

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 9: No Place Like Home**

I can't believe I actually agreed to come back here.

Bright white sunlight floods the grounds of the school, nearly blinding me. Looking across the expansive grounds, I don't see any kids but I can hear them. Sweet Jesus, this is going to be a long visit if I have to deal with students. The high, wrought-iron gate still surrounds the entire property. No problem. Erik showed me a trick to get past them. I start to remove my gloves to give the security system a little jolt, to open the gate, when it opens on its own.

Chuck. I guess he sensed me. Figures.

I walk up the steps and toward the two huge oak doors, touching the brightly-polished steel knobs and pull. It's unlocked so Chuck is either A.) Too trusting for his own good, or B.) Left it that way for me. I think I'll go with B. The front hall is just as I remember it: grand. The hall is empty. Strange. I don't remember it being like this, so deathly quiet. Still, Chuck has made some upgrades since the last time I was here. The Mansion's very – what's the word? – sparse. Surprisingly modern.

Now, where was his office? Oh, yeah!

I start to head in the general direction of Chuck's office when the school bell rings. Great, just great! Doors open and there's a moment of traffic, kids laughing and chatting, loud as hell, some even staring as they pass me, and then they're all gone. Lots of kids, all annoying, hormonal, and in a rush to get to lunch. Some things never change.

I start heading toward Chuck's office again when I see her: Jean. She's walking purposefully towards some doors, and I follow her discreetly. She walks inside, and neglects to close it so I enter as quietly as possible.

"I believe you've already met Dr. Jean Grey," the familiar voice from my head says, nodding to Jean as she moves past some guy, some very buff looking guy.

"Well, isn't he the lucky one then?" I question sarcastically, making sure to sound cheerful for the full effect. What can I say? I'm a bitch.

Ororo is easy to make out in the room. After all, how many chicks walk around with snow white hair? Um, no one! No one but her. Still, she looks damn good. Jean is standing next to…Scott. They're still together? Well, of course, they are! Why wouldn't they be? Damn, he still looks good, too! Why does he have to look so good? Okay, focus, Gwen! Oh, there's Chuck, sitting behind that same large mahogany desk. Christ, he's still an intense and intelligent looking man.

But, who's this other guy?

He's looking me up and down, brow furrowed and thoroughly confused. He must be new, but I can't help but check him out either. M-m-m-m-mmm! He's a fine looking specimen! Even in the loose sweats with the school insignia. But, uh, Scruffy looks a bit flustered. Wonder what his deal is?

"Did you just get out of gym class, Scruffy?" I ask him, smirking as he glares. I hear him growl deep in his throat. Wow, he really has that whole broody, dark, lonely…loner look down cold.

"Gwendolyn," Chuck greets with a smile, rolling around from behind his desk to shake my hand.

"Gwen?" Jean gasps in shock, and I smile scathingly at her. She's examining me, much as Scruffy had, and I'm suddenly very pleased that I decided to stay in my red leather pants and spandex tube top.

"What, no cake?" I ask sweetly. Yeah right, as if there would actually be a party to welcome _me_ back.

"You look…um…tight," Ororo says, stumbling for words.

"Thanks, Ebony," I reply, winking at her. I think I scared her a bit.

"Gwen…" I know that voice. It's changed over the years, but I still recognize it.

"Don't talk to me, _Cyclops,_" I state, mocking his codename. I look down slightly to see his arm around Jean's waist. Bastard. "We're not friends anymore, you know that. Or, at least, you should." He ducks his head and I smile, looking back at the reason for my being here. "Hey, Chuck. Miss me?"

"I'm glad you decided to come home, Gwen," he says kindly.

"Home, right," I say dully, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, it's…nice. I see you haven't changed the drapes." Mocking him is too much fun and he makes it far too easy. Still, he takes it in stride – or roll, rather – and just smiles.

"Gwendolyn Raiden, meet Logan." He points to Scruffy, and I hold out my hand. He takes it hesitantly, staring at my gloves. He's curious.

"Just Logan like just Madonna?" I question jokingly, raising an eyebrow. I see Scott out of the corner of my eye, jaw clenched and arms crossed. Is he jealous? Oh, my God. If flirting with another man in front of Scott made him jealous, I would've done it years ago!

"Minus the shitty movies," he replies, smirking and shaking my hand. He hates _Evita_ and _The Next Best Thing_? Finally! Someone else who isn't completely insane!

"Funny. I like that," I tell him, and take a step back to frown.

"Logan, Gwen is another former student of mine, otherwise known as Livewire."

"Ugh, please, I hate that name. Gwen or Raiden or nothing, 'kay, Scruffy?" I tell him with a groan of disgust.

"Just Logan, Gwennie," he replied and I smirk at him. He smirks back. Man has balls. I like that, too. I soon turn to stare at Chuck. Play times over.

"You're at my mansion, a school for mutants. You'll be safe here from Magneto," Chuck tells him.

"What's a Magneto?" It's a toy that's fun for a boy and a girl.

"A _very_ powerful mutant who believes a _war_ is brewing between mutants and the rest of humanity," he explains. "I've been following his activities for some time. The man who attacked you is an associate of his named Sabretooth."

"Sabretooth"?" he sneers.

"Otherwise known as Victor Creed," I tell him, smirking.

"Storm"?" he questions, pointing at Ororo and makes a clicking noise. Smooth. _Real_ smooth, Scruffy. "What do they call you?" he asks Chuck ""Wheels"? This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he laughs. I agree! Let's go get a drink! He begins to leave but Scott is standing in the doorway, not moving. Not smart, Scott. ""Cyclops", right?" he sneers again, grabbing Scott by the scruff of his shirt. Don't hurt him! That's my job! "You want to get out of my way?" I watch as Scott looks over Logan's shoulder, back at Chuck. What is he doing, asking permission to blast?

"Logan. It's been almost fifteen years, hasn't it?" Fifteen years since what? Still, it's interesting. Chuck's words seem to chill Logan to the bone and he looks back at him. "Moving from place to place, with no idea of who you really are?"

"Shut up!" Oh, them's fighting words!

"Give me a chance. I may be able to help you find what you're looking for." Doubt that!

"How do you know – ?" Logan must hear Chuck's voice in his head. Chuck must be putting on a show inside that head of hair too because Logan is looking all over the place. Weirdo. Hasn't he ever met a telepath before? Luckily, Chuck's plan works and Scruffy looks at him curiously. "What is this place?" he asks, smirking interestedly.

"The closest thing our society has to institutionalized torture," I tell him dramatically. "School." I see Jean roll her eyes, but Ororo and Chuck look very amused. Scott is still blank as ever. "Look, now that I've met the new guy, why the hell did you call me back here?" I ask pointedly, going into my sassy pose.

"Well, as I said before, it appears that Magneto has been a very bad man," he replies simply and I shrug.

"Hmm, that's funny. He's always been nice to me."

"Wait, have you been talking to him? Don't you know what he's been doing?" Scott asks incredulously, taking a step toward me but I hold up a gloved hand to stop him.

"Didn't I say that I didn't want to talk to you? And, yes, I've been talking to him. Well, not recently anyway," I lie. Who cares?

"When was the last time you spoke to him, Gwen?" Chuck asks, folding his fingers together and leaning on his elbows. I remember him doing that when he wanted to look stern or concerned.

"Oh, I don't about…" Six hours ago. "…Six months ago. He called me about a job, I took it, and had finished it up not long after you called," I reply. At least it's partly true.

"What kind of job?" Ororo asks curiously, crossing her arms.

"The stealthy smash and grab kind, 'Ro," I reply, as if it's so obvious.

"You…you're a thief?" she gasps, arms falling to her side. She looks so disappointed. Oh, well!

"Yes, anyone here got a problem with that?" I ask, looking around the room. Chuck isn't surprised, so I guess he knew what I was doing or found out when he talked. Scott looks upset and, surprisingly, concerned. Jean seems to care less, and Logan looks…impressed?

"Would you, perhaps, like to get settled and meet the children?" Chuck asks, and I chuckle, shaking my head.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, with my, uh…" I hold out my arms for emphasis.

"Gwen, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. I thought you would have learned that by now," he chides.

"Oh, I've come to terms with the fact that I'm a freak, Chuck. Don't worry. I have no disillusions about that," I state, and smile as he frowns at my use of the word freak. "What I was referring to was my clothing. I'm afraid I have nothing else to wear. Well, nothing so plain or conservative as 'Ro and Doc here."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Jean mutters, but I hear her and turn to glare at her.

"Why don't you go levitate a book or boil some water? You know, make yourself useful for a change," I say mockingly, and she glares back at me.

"Gwen," Ororo chides, and I smirk. Calm down, babe. You can get her later.

"Sorry, 'Ro. I'll be good now, promise. Cross my heart and everything," I reply, literally crossing my heart just for her.

"You are still that same bright young woman that came here years ago," Chuck comments, and my gaze goes back to him. "Still a bit problematic as well, but good at heart."

"Wow, you really think things haven't changed, don't you? Living in this blissful bubble, hiding from the real world. It must be nice to be a bunch of cowards," I sneer.

"Gwen!" Scott exclaims. Too late, I'm already speak my mind and you can't stop me.

"Oh, I'm sorry! You're not _hiding,_ you're running around protecting the normies from our own kind! My mistake," I correct mockingly. I may not agree with Erik's war, but I sure as hell don't agree with protecting a race of people who've been trying to kill us. It's just plain stupid. "Are you going to explain why the hell I had to come across the country now?" I ask impatiently.

"No," Chruck replies, and I restrain the urge to rip of my gloves and shock him. If you're not going to explain yourself then why the hell did I come here? "I thought you might like to get settled first. Maybe re-familiarize yourself with the school," he explains and I shrug again. Why not?

"Why not? I need to sleep off some train-lag anyway, make a few calls, cancel a few plans."

"More stealing?" Jean sneers pointedly.

"Maybe," I reply, as if to say, 'Yes, I am a thief, I might be stealing something later on, maybe from you. Got a problem? Too fucking bad!' "Good night to all. Nice meeting you, Scruffy." I pick up my bag again and turn towards the door. I have a hand on the doorknob when…

"Gwen." I sigh and lower my head, fighting a smile.

"Damn." I turn around to look at Chuck. "I should've known," I state, looking at him pointedly and tapping the side of my head. I really don't like mind readers.

"Yes, I know. You simply can't help yourself," he replies easily, smiling. God, he doesn't even care.

"Give the man a Q-pea Doll," I joke, smiling at him and digging into my back pockets. "Here 'ya go, Scruffy." I pull out the wallet and toss it back to him. It was far too easy to get it. "Try to keep a better hold on it when I'm around," I advise.

"I'll do that," he replies, shoving his wallet back in his pockets. He stares at me a bit longer before I wink and leave the room, Ororo behind me.

P.S.: Six pages total.


	10. Don't Let It Go To Your Head

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

TheCocoaBean: I know what you mean about Gwen seeming a little too hostile. I've done that on purpose. She's always been a sarcastic badass, but her character has been through a lot. I added to all of that with Scott, Magneto, and the normies so she's overwhelmed for the moment. Don't worry. She'll chill out. That softer side will come out soon. As for the plot, I'm mostly sticking to the movie but I'm adding a few little things from the first draft that I got a hold of.

Thanks to XChocolateChipX!

**Chapter 10: Don't Let It Go To Your Head**

Ororo was kind enough to give me a tour of the school, showing me the additions and changes over the years, giving me the skinny on Scruffy and some kid that he came in with. After that, she walked me back to my room to help me settle in. My room was…well, hella scary. Massively scary. Nothing was different. It was still the simple dorm cube with a bed and small desk. When I first came here, I had examined the room grimly. I did the same when I saw it again. Everything that I had done to that room – the sketches I posted up all over the walls, the posters, the red paint and Chinese glyphs, even the sheets and my personal photos of the students then – was still intact. Some of my clothes were still in the closet even!

I guess Chuck really thought I was coming back. Well, he was right, in a way.

"Is there anything else I can get you, Kaminari?" Ororo asks, smirking coyly at me. I groan loudly.

"God, I'd forgotten about _that _stupid call sign," I reply amusedly, shaking my head and flopping down onto my bed. The springs still work just fine.

"It is not a "stupid call sign"," she scolds. "It is who you are."

"No, it's who everyone here expected me to be," I retort bitterly, resting my hands behind my head and staring up at the ceiling. "Besides, I rejected Kaminari…and Livewire, actually. Look, it's either Gwen or Raiden or nothing, okay, Ebony?"

"Fine, but I am either Ororo or Storm, okay?" I look over at her and smile, nodding. Smart aleck. "Now, is there anything I can get you, Gwen?"

"Hmm, I don't know," I hum thoughtfully. "How about some cigarettes, a bottle of Vodka, and a bowl of cherries."

"There is no smoking or drinking on the school grounds, Gwen, you know that," she reminds me. Whatever. "You smoke now?"

"No, just wanted to hear what you'd say," I tell her, and she laughs a little. It's a bit strained, uncomfortable. Hell, sister, I'm just as uncomfortable as you are so maybe you should just leave. "Besides, even if I had them, I wouldn't light the cigs. How does that sound?"

"You've changed so much, Gwen," she says. Well, jeez! Don't sound so depressed! Everybody changes, even you! After all, 'Ro, you got…you…your hair got longer! Okay, so she hasn't changed all that much from the earth loving claustrophobic mutie I used to know. "You should get some sleep. I know that seeing Scott and Jean probably brought back a lot of memories. I should think you will be hurting for a while."

"What if I like the pain?" I ask quietly, eyes still at the ceiling. At the silence, I roll my head to look at Ororo. She's standing at the open doorway, unsure of what to make of my words.

"You said you are a thief. The Professor said you are misguided," she stated uncertainly.

"Oh, yeah? Well, I prefer to think of myself as a professional," I snap, smirking sardonically.

"Maybe the Professor could help you with that."

"By reading my thoughts?" You should know better than that. I hate mind readers.

"If necessary," she confirms with a nod.

"What if they're naughty?" I questioned with a smirk, and Ororo smiles politely. She knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"Get some shut-eye, Gwen," she tells me, and shuts the door.

Sitting up in bed, I look over to the desk. Some of my old sketchbooks are piled up there. I must've gone through at least ten. Walking over, I pick up one that isn't mine. It's new, and there are several pencils with it, also new. Professional pencils. I open it, wondering whom it belongs to. A note slips out, and I bend down to get it. No name. I look around – although it's not like anyone can see me – before opening the envelope and pull out the letter.

_I hope you don't mind. I remember that this used to help you relax. I wonder if it still does?_

_**-X**_

Of course. Who else would leave my room untouched like a freaky shrine and leave gifts? I shake my head. Thanks, Chuck.

Tap-tap. Tap-tap.

Footsteps. Setting down the new book, I swiftly walk to my door and crack it open just an inch. Scott. He's already past my door, but he starts to turn around so I close my door.

"Welcome home, Gwen," he mumbles and I crack open my door again. Why I'm hiding, I don't know. I've wanted to see him for years and now that he's four feet away I'm hiding behind a door. Yeah, how pathetic am I? His back is to me and I open my door fully and step partially into the hall.

"Thanks," I say quietly, calling to him. Scott stops, hesitating and thinking about turning around I'll bet. When he does, I see him smiling. I smile back.

"Gwen…"

"Goodnight, Scott," I interject quickly. I was wrong, I can't do this. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah, um, there's a staff meeting in the lower levels tomorrow, in medical," he explains, shifting nervously with his hands in his pockets. Okay, so he dresses like a dork now but he still looks good. How is that fair? "I'll, uh, I guess I'll see you there."

"Right. Thanks for the heads up," I reply, nodding. Silence, again. God, we used to be able to just sit with one another in silence and be just fine. Now, it's all awkward and uncomfortable. "Night."

"Night." I walk back into my room and close the door.

"I don't like her being here."

Jean. God damn that red headed bitch to hell! Can't she ever just shut her yap!

"What are you talking about?" Scott asks confusedly. Jean must've startled him with her sneaking up on him.

"You heard her. She's a thief. We can't trust her. And with everything that's happening with Magneto hunting Logan…" Whoa, wait a minute? Erik's hunting Scruffy? What for?

"You think he'll come after him again?"

"If necessary, yes, I think he would."

"This is a school, for God's sake, Jean!"

"If Magneto is planning to use Logan for some terrible purpose it's our responsibility to do something. Gwen being here complicates things. The two of them were always so close. How do you we know that she's not involved?" I open my door quietly and look through the crack of my door to see Scott shake his head.

"What's wrong? There's something else bothering you," he says. Scott gets closer to her, and she puts her hand on his chest. I bite my lip and inhale sharply. Don't get mad. Don't get mad.

"I just have a bad feeling about this," Jean states and leans in slowly, kissing him. More sharp inhaling. Don't get mad. Don't get mad. Don't. Get. Mad. "You know I love you, Scott." Scott pulls her close, hugging her close to him.

"I know." I knew I shouldn't have come back.

**_A/N: _**I feel really bad about posting this the day before I go on vacation, but I hope to come back in a week to reviews.

P.S.: Five pages total.


	11. Metal of Myth

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 11: Metal of Myth**

Later that night, Chuck invaded my mind. Much to my annoyance, as I'm sure the headache he'll have from my mental lashing will prove. He woke me up from a dead sleep to call me down to the lower levels. Apparently, Jean has finished her evaluation of Scruffy so I had to be there to here her diagnosis. Whatever. She got to see him with his shirt off, she's happy and I'm still half asleep as I stumble into the medical lab.

Chuck, Ororo, Scott, and Jean are already here. Great, I'm the last one. Lucky me.

"Nice of you to join us, Livewire," Jean greets, smiling kindly. How can she be so nice? She ruined my God damn life! God, I'd love to punch her pretty little face in right now. "Pardon me for trying to sleep off more than three days worth of train lag and the stink of one very rank smelling New York City bus," I retort, smiling tightly and clenching my fist. "Ladies," Chuck chides, and I watch as Jean turns her back to me. There's a white light board with a long full-body X-ray in place. Must be Scruffy's. 

"Sorry, Chuck. Go on with your explanation of your "evaluation" of Scruffy," I tell Jean, pulling up a chair neck to Ororo and reclining. "I promise to be stimulated," I add dryly, crossing my arms and making like I'm going back to sleep.

"The metal's called adamantium," Jean states. Okay, my eyes are wide open again. Did she just say what I think she said? "Supposedly unbreakable, impenetrable, unbendable, resistant to the most extreme heat, and cold. Virtually indestructible," she explained, pointing to the X-ray. "It's been grafted to his entire skeleton." 

"Adamantium? You can't be serious!" I exclaimed incredulously, sitting up in my chair.

"You know what it is?" Scott asks me. As mad as I am at him, I can't ignore him anymore. He'll always be here, hovering and asking questions. I might as well get used to it.

"Yeah, Erik told me about once. He said he'd love to get his hands on it, just to play with it," I explain, rolling my eyes a bit. Erik was a little weird. "I just thought it was a magnetic thing, I never thought it might have something to do with Scruffy." Chuck clears his throat and give me a pointed look. Another eye roll. "Sorry. Logan. Until now I thought adamantium was a myth."

"You might try to maintain as little contact as possible with Logan, Gwen," Chuck advises me.

"Not that I like to keep too close to anyone these days, ever, but why him in particular?" Since when is it okay for Chuck to dictate my life? 

"Logan, for you, is a massive walking conductor," he explains and I realize what he's talking about.

"I touch him, I kill him," I state, and he nods. "And the perks just keep on coming with my power," I mumble bitterly, hanging my head and running my gloved fingers through my unruly hair.

"How could he survive such an operation?" Ororo asked curiously.

"His mutation," Jean answer, "He has uncharted regenerative capability. It also makes his age impossible to determine. He could very well be older than you, Professor," she adds, smirking at the old man.

"Who did this to him?" Scott asks.

"He doesn't remember." Jean shrugs. Gee, thanks. That was _so_ helpful. "And he has no memory of what his life was like before it happened."

"Is the adamantium part of his mutation?" Ororo asks curiously. Don't be stupid, Ebony. Don't be stupid.

"No. Someone put it there, relying on his healing abilities to keep him alive," Chuck states. "Experimentation on mutants. It's not unheard of."

"What could Magneto want with him?" Scott asks. There it is, the million-dollar question. I watch silently as Chuck wheels himself closer to the X-ray, starring at it in deep thought. He really needs to relax a bit, in my opinion.

"I'm not entirely sure it's him that Magneto wants," he tells us.

"You never know. If what you told me is true, about Victor being there, than maybe he just wants Logan as a play toy," I offer. Then it hits me. Erik was with me hours after he had Sabretooth attack Logan and that girl, what's-her-name. "Or, maybe, he's trying to get Logan to join him like he did me…"

"What?" Scott questions. Shit! I whispered that to myself, how the hell did he hear me? If anyone should've heard me, it should've been Ororo! She's the one next to me! But no! She didn't!

"Hmm? I didn't say anything," I reply casually. Maybe he'll think he was hearing things and forget about it. 

"You used to be good at lying," he states pointedly. Shit, he didn't buy the casual act!

"Still am," I retort and look to the others. Great, look what you did now, Scott! Now everyone wants an explanation! "Okay, okay, so I lied! The last time I saw Erik was six _hours_ before I got here, not six _months_." Chuck wheels towards me and when he stops, I can just tell by the look in his eyes that he wants to know more. "I was on the train, just outside the state line when I was harassed by a pack of meat headed normie mutant haters. They pissed me off, they got hurt, and Erik came to the rescue. Raven was with him."

""Raven"?" Ororo questions.

"Raven Darkholme. Mystique," Chuck supplies and the others nod.

"Yeah, her. She and Sabretooth were with him. So was Mortimer," I reply, and Chuck frowns in disappointment. Well, Mortimer always was a slimy bastard, always causing trouble. It really does make some sense that he would join the war. "Erik said he'd heard I was on my way back here. He said he was hoping I would join him and I blew him off." 

"That's it? You just "blew him off"?" Jean questions in disbelief. I glare at her. Stupid bitch just can't keep her mouth shut.

"I wasn't really feeling the love with him, just like I'm not here. So, if you'll excuse me," I say, rising from my chair and heading for the exit, "I need to go play with some electrical fields in the Danger Room before I blow all the currents in here."

Just to prove my point, the lights flicker violently and the white board shuts down completely.

"Gwen, you really should try to be more productive during your stay here."

"You shouldn't have follow me, Chuck," I state, stopping in my tracks. I'm firm to keep my back to him. If I look at him, he'll probably just read my mind. If I don't look at him, it makes it easier to keep him out. "I heard Scruffy came in with a kid. What are you going to do with her?"

"Rogue is a beautiful girl, with an extraordinary power. One that even her family isn't able to accept," he explains solemnly, and I notice that he's wheeled up next to me. "She's been on her own for weeks now, searching for a home, a place to belong. We're going to give her that."

Scruffy and this kid, they're going to need someone on their side. I know Scott's already against Scruffy, Jean will most likely side with him, and Ororo will do whatever Chuck asks. These two need someone to back them up. Looks like it'll have to be me. Great. Just fucking great. I'm back for a few hours and already I'm being a Good Samaritan. Makes me sick.

"Forty-eight hours, Chuck," I state, looking down at him stoically. "I'll give you forty-eight hours and then I'm leaving. But if you cross me, in _any_ way, I won't feel any guilt about what I do to you. I might just finish what I started," I add, pointing lightly at his chair, flickering the lights yet again. Normally, this might scare someone, but his face remains blank. Bastard.

"Deal." I nod and start to walk again with his rolling beside me.

"You know, I'll never understand your regard for them," I state. He knows I'm talking about the stupid normies; there's no need to elaborate.

"And _I'll_ never understand terrorists," he retorts and I roll my eyes in exasperation. I am not a terrorist! I am a Goddamn professional! "We are more alike now than we were six years ago, Gwen. We are more alike than you think," he says wisely.

"Is that so?" I ask mockingly. "_You're_ still trying to make the world safe for our kind, and _I'm_ still hoping that we'll be introduced definitively," I state. We couldn't be more different, Chuck.

"Your definition of definitive was always a bit extreme for me," he replies, smiling amusedly. "What is it like these days?"

"Let's just say that I've made some radical changes to my life," I state. "Note the hair," I add jokingly, pulling at one of the red and blonde streaks with my brown.

"I am trying to _save_ our kind, Gwen," Chucks tells me, stopping abruptly in front of me. "You should do the same," he advises. Bastard, trying to tell me what to do. I don't think so!

"Not at the cost of my own life."

P.S.: Four pages total.


	12. A Lucky Gift

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

Thanks to TheCocoaBean, jane-ant-that-plain, Certh, and XChocolateChipX! 

**Chapter 12: A Lucky Gift**

I was leaving Scruffy's room for the night. Chuck had asked me to sit with him for a few minutes, just until he came back. When he finally did, he was really secretive about where he'd been. I asked, he gave a cryptic answer. Same old, same old. Good old Papa Cue-ball needs a new routine.

It was on my way back to my room that I bumped into her, the girl that put Scruffy in his current position. She was so timid and shy, looking like a snake might pop up and bite her at any give moment. I couldn't be angry with her. I wish to hell that I could be since it was her stupidity that got the both of them hurt, but I couldn't. Hell, she's me!

"Is Logan okay?" she asks cautiously, looking at the closed door.

"Yeah, he's fine. He'll be up and back to his surly self in a few hours, Sugarpop," I tell her, smiling reassuringly. She gives me a strange smile, but doesn't seem to mind the nickname. "Why, you need something?" I may as well try to be helpful. After all, she did just send her only real friend into seizures and unconsciousness.

"No, it's just…" She stares at me for a moment, and I look at her curiously, expectantly. I've never met this kid before, seen and heard about her, yes – who the hell in this school hadn't by now? – but I've never met her. So why the hell is she looking at me like she knows me? "You're Ms. Raiden, right?" I nod, laughing a bit at the formality. You'd think I was a teacher or something here! "The Professor, he told me about you. He says that you and me are a lot alike."

"Oh, really? Did he now?" I ask interestedly, walking down the hall and motioning for her to follow me. Chuck told her about me. What is he up to? I know he's up to something, he always is!

"He says that our gifts are so extreme that…" She trails off and I look at her as I open my bedroom door. Christ, she really is like me; shifting nervously on her feet, wringing her hands, looking at the ground. Man, I really was pathetic as a teenager.

"That we're dangerous to ourselves and others?" I supply knowingly, and she looks up.

"Yeah," she squeaks, nodding.

"Yeah, well, he's right," I state bitterly, inviting her into my room. She comes in, slowly that is, and kind of hovers in the corner as I close the door. "Well, about me anyway. I can't say anything about you."

"I'm incapable of human contact, or that's what the Professor says," she says.

"So am I." She looks up at me, eyes wide, almost hopeful.

"You are?" Didn't I just say that I was?

"Yeah. If I touch someone, they get about a thousand volts straight to…everywhere," I say lamely. I could've said 'straight to the old ticker' but that would be a lie. I touch you, the electricity goes everywhere; there isn't an inch of your body that isn't missed.

"The Professor said I might be this way for the rest of my life," she tells me sadly, and I sigh quietly. I am not a mother! I am a Goddamn professional! I don't do water works and comforting!

"Same here. I'm lucky like that."

"Don't you hate it though?"

"Sure I hate it." More than you know, kid. "I'd be stupid not to." Sighing, I sit on my bed and motion for her to sit next to me. I might as well try to be comforting. "I've only been able to get close to three people without being afraid, and two of them ditched me for better things." So I'm not so great at the comforting. Never said I was perfect!

"Who? If you don't mind me asking," she adds immediately.

"I don't mind," I reply. But hell yes, I do! You are nosy and stepping your toes all over things you shouldn't be asking about! "The first is the Professor, and he's still with me even though I left. He's annoying like that; kind of a…telepathic low-jack. The second was…" Maybe I shouldn't tell her about Erik. After all, it was his goons that attacked her and Logan. "…My mentor, and he left the school here with I was sixteen. That same year, my boyfriend dumped me."

"Really?" she asked incredulously. I guess it's the fact that I actually had a boyfriend that shocks her more.

"Yeah."

"Who…who was he?" Careful, she's always so careful.

"Scott."

"Mr. Summers? Cyclops?" More shock. This is getting kind of funny now!

"Yeah. He left me for Jean," I say solemnly, looking down at my gloves. Bastard. Why does it still hurt? I hate that it hurts! Looking over at the girl, I see that she's…well, I guess I just killed her hope of ever getting close to guys. Okay, gotta fix this! "I guess the no touching rule kind of got too hard on him, strained the relationship. I can't really be angry with him though. He's a guy, he needs to touch." Maybe that wasn't the best things to say.

"How long were you two…you know, before…you know?" Christ, why is she so soft spoken and careful? A girl with a power like hers should fear nothing!

"Two and a half years."

"I'm sorry." And she really is. I can tell.

"Don't be. I wouldn't be the shiny, upstanding moral citizen that I am today if it wasn't for him and Jean," I retort, a little sarcastic. Me, an upstanding citizen? That's a laugh riot! She catches on and smiles.

"I like you," she states, smiling. Nice smile for a kid. "You're the first person I've met who actually understands what I'm going through." Yeah, well, birds of a feather and all that. "Could I…would you swear not to tell anyone if I told you something? Only Logan knows this, but would you swear not to tell?"

"Kid, look at me," I hold out my arms and gesture at my outfit. "I am not a teacher who's going to go rat you out to Papa Cue-ball. In my line of work, I have to be a mistress of secrets."

"The first boy I ever kissed…he ended up in a coma," she tells me.

"Well, you're a step ahead of me. I've never been kissed and I'm twenty-four," I tell her. Again with the shock! "Yeah, I know. Kinda sad, but after seeing a few maids, butlers, and kids fly back about ten feet when I touch them, I kind of gave up on a romantic life."

"Until Cyclops," she states and I nod, looking straight at the wall.

"Yeah, Scott. He…he gave me a little hope of being like other girls, being normal," I tell her depressingly.

"We touch people and they die," she says, also very depressed. Wow, I'm just a real ray of sunshine.

"Yeah, death is our gift. We're lucky like that," I tell her, smiling sardonically. She nods, looking at least a little happier, and walks to the door. I follow and hold it open for her.

"Could I maybe talk to you again sometime?" she asks hopefully, nervously.

"Sure thing, Sister Sugarpop," I tell her, smiling and nodding. She smiles back and leaves. "Sure thing," I mumble, shaking my head as she turns the corner and out of sight.

P.S.: Three pages total.


	13. Pointlessness of Life

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 13: Pointlessness of Life**

I'm wandering a hallway when Scruffy walks down the same one as me. I raise an eyebrow at him, as he was wearing sweats yet again. He obviously just woke up and Chuck must've released him. Why doesn't it surprise me that he's been sleeping all day? Then again, after what happened, I'm not really surprised.

"Hey, Scruffy," I greet cheerfully. "How you feeling?"

"Hmm," he grunts, and starts walking again. Laughing quietly, I walk beside him down the hall. The sun is low in the horizon so the hall is suffused with an orange glow. As students pass us, they watch Logan fearfully. By now, whether Scruffy knows it or not, the rumor mill has been hard at work about what happened.

"Why is everybody up at sunrise?" Scruffy asks moodily, glaring at a few students.

"You see that lovely array of colors in the sky?" I ask him, stopping at a window and pointing out it. "The sun is _setting_, Scruffy, not rising. You've been asleep for nineteen hours," I explain. He closes his eyes and rubs his face tiredly. Smirking amusedly, I cross my arms and lean against the wall. "What did she do to you?" I may have talked to the kid and know that she can't touch people, but I don't know the specifics of that.

"Borrowed my power to save her life," he answered, cracking his neck. Nice neck. I bet it'd be nice to nibble on. Wait a minute! She borrowed his power?

""Borrowed"?" I echo confusedly. What the hell does _that_ mean? "What's her power?"

"According to the Professor…" Oh, so he talked to Chuck! That explains a lot. "…when she touches someone, she absorbs their "gifts"." I can tell he's mocking the word. Hell, I used to do it all the time. Still do sometimes actually.

"So, in _your_ case, your healing," I concluded and he nods. We start walking again. "What did it feel like?" I admit, I'm curious to know what it would feel like to have someone…well, the rumors said it looked like she sucked the life out of him.

"Like she almost killed me," he answers. "If she'd held on any longer she could have, or so Wheels says."

"What's her name again?" So I forgot to ask her name last night, big deal!

"Marie. Well, she goes by Rogue." Rogue? Who came up with that name?

"And, with a power like hers, does everyone think it helps calling her Rogue? I mean, a rogue is defined as a dishonest person, a scoundrel, tramp, vagabond, cheater, and something that destroys others. Biologically, a rogue is an inferior organism," I state logically. I can see Scruffy shake his head out of the corner of my eye. I guess he's decided to remain patient.

"What are you, a human dictionary?" he asks with a sneer. I whip my head around to glare at him, but I see the smirk. Hairy bastard. He's teasing me!

"No, I just remember the words that I like the most. Usually the ones that apply to me," I state smartly.

"So you're a _rogue?_" he questions amusedly.

"On good days," I retort mischievously. Wouldn't he like to know just how bad I really am?

"And on bad days?"

"You'll have to find that out on your own." Scruffy smirks at me, and I smirk back. God, I miss flirting! It's nice to have a man faun over _me_ instead of Jean for a change. "The point is, mutants are already seen as inferior, or diseases rather, so why call her something like that?"

"It's what the kid likes," he reasons. So what? It's the principle of thing!

"Chuck always said that we needed to learn to embrace what we are rather than hide it like an affliction. Our other teacher, Erik, always said the opposite. He believed that we needed to fight for our rights because we're human beings, too." When the hell did I become all teacher-y?

"I think I might agree with him," Logan surmises. Does he mean Erik? Of course he does! Who the hell wouldn't? Well, except Chuck and the others.

"So did I and I still do, but I don't go about things his way."

"And what's his way?" Let's see: kidnapping, torture, drugging, massive rallies, protests, sit-ins, and murder among other things.

"We'll just call it aggressive negotiations," I tell him hastily. He raises an eyebrow, I raise one back – saying back off – and he shakes his head. "Anyway, for some people, like Ororo and Scott and even a few other graduated students, their powers have become their identity. Ororo is a weather witch so she's called Storm. Scott's eyes have to be covered and it's like he has one eye when he's blasting, so he's called Cyclops. I'm an electricity fiend that can't touch anything or I risk killing it, so they call me Livewire."

"You hate that though," he points out.

"True, but it's an accurate name. Toad, Havok, Avalanche, Dazzler, Quicksilver, Scarlett Witch, Thunderbird, Mimic, Sunfire – they're the people I went to school with. They were the only real friends I had my whole life, and I only knew them for about five years. They accepted me when my own parents wouldn't. You mock the names we were given but we them as badges of pride," I explain.

"Inspiring," he retorts dryly. Why does he have be such an ass? A nice ass it is, but why does he have to be one when I've just been all inspiring? "Only one problem: you hate your name."

"I don't hate it. I'm a realist, and I don't like labels," I correct. Eh, so it's half true. Freak is my _real_ label. That one I don't mind. "Livewire, that really is who I am. Just like you're really Wolverine." Scruffy stops and I stop with him. He's staring at me, eyes narrows and…oh, right. "'Ro told me all about you when I first got here," I explain and he nods.

"And what is did she tell you, Gwennie?" he asked, leaning closer with a devilish smirk.

"Gwen, I need to talk to you." Oh, I know that voice. Before I even turn around, I know its Scott there. Scruffy turns though and I watch as he glares at Scott. "Alone," he adds pointedly and I just know that he's staring at Scruffy. "Would you excuse us please?" he asks rudely.

"Of course. Don't let me get in the way," Scruffy says and I turn to watch him leave. I stifle a laugh as he knocks shoulders with Scott.

"Let's take a walk." WHAT! Scott begins to walk away in the other direction.

"But I just took one!" I exclaim, arms wide and watching him go.

After a moment, in which I cursed Scott with several words, I decide it might be more interesting to see where this is going to go. I follow. Hell, we might walk into Jean and I'd just love for her to catch us together. When I catch up with him he barely spars me a glance, and we just continue to walk down the hall to the gym.

God, I used to hate this place!On first glance, the gym looks really average. A fairly standard boxing ring in the middle. A fairly standard set of mats. A fairly standard track painted on the ground of the floor. A fairly standard weight set. That would be when you notice the weights are abnormally large, going from a hundred to two thousand pounds

And that is just one stack!

"How long have you been in L.A.?" Scott asks, entering first with me coming in behind him, admiring his ass. He has been working out!

"Since the day I left, remember?" I retort angrily.

"How can I forget?" he retorts. Oh, God! Don't tell me he's going to get all…mushy? "You didn't say goodbye." Man, did that sound pathetic! Worse? I still feel guilty about that.

"Not to you and Jean, but I'm pretty sure I got around everyone else," I state. Scott shakes his head, probably in disappointment. "Is that what you wanted to ask me?" Before he can even respond, I turn and head for the door. I didn't come back for this! Sadly, I'm barely through the door when Scott grabs me and pulls me against him. Hmm, the aggression is kind of a good look on him.

"I just wanted to make you clear on some things. Personally, I don't care what Magneto wants with Logan. He can take those claws of his and use them for Barbecue skewers." Oh, yeah, definitely loving the aggressive side of him. "What I _do_ care about is the safety of this school and its inhabitants. The Professor is in charge, and after the Professor, there's me. So, for the remainder of yours and Logan's time here, you're going to keep that killer instinct of yours locked down so no one else gets hurt."

"I've worked for men like you before, you know. Methodical, systematic, naïve," I tell him with a smirk. Mind games are fun. "I never thought you'd end up like them though, Scott. I really didn't. Do you even know what happens to those men in a real fight?"

"Gwen –"

"Shut up!" I shout angrily, pushing him away form me. "I have absolutely no interest in you, Chuck," I points mockingly at the X's on the walls of the gym, "or the X-Men. I didn't six years ago and I still don't now. That's not going to change." Lowering my head, I walk closer to him.

"And I don't think this little talk has anything to do with my "killer instinct" since I'm no killer. A fantastic thief, yes, but not a killer. I think you just don't like that I'd rather break the rules and be around Scruffy than you." Scott pales and my smirk widens. "Or maybe you don't like the way he's looking at Jean. Did you already tell him to keep away from her? Of course you did. Maybe this whole chauvinistic attitude isn't because of me or Scruffy. Maybe it's because you don't like the way she's looking back at him…and maybe you think you're man enough to do something about it."

Scott is enraged. I can tell from his body movement and the red light beginning to glow around the edge of his visor. The ruby-quartz lenses are brightening by the second. I can faintly hear the low hum of immense power that is now barely contained. Before he can even react though, I pull off a glove and hold my hand over his chest, his heart. I'm charged and ready to go. I'm faster than him, and he knows it. I smile.

"Come on, Cyclops, blast me," I mock. "But do you think you can blow the meat off my bones before I electrocute you? Let's find out." God, the tension in the air is unbelievable. I'm _so_ ready to attack him!

"Cyclops! Livewire!" I whirl around to see Chuck, regarding us sternly. Bastard. Patronizing, nosey bastard! Fine! If I can't take my anger out on Scott, I'll take it out on Chuck and his perfect fucking timing!

"I have a question for you, Chuck. What's the point?" I ask. Chuck sits calmly as I march over to him, still charged.

"The point of what?"

"This! This whole Goddamn thing! Making yourselves into some sort of "team" of super-powered freaks!" I exclaim, raising an arm back towards Scott derisively. "Teaching wayward mutants about classical literature! And for who? For what? What's the point?"

I can hear my electricity now, clear as a bell and I know it's visibly surrounding my hand now. It kind of does that when I'm pissed off. So I continue to advance on Chuck. I see him wave at something, so I can only assume Scott moved to stop me and Chuck stopped him.

Stupid move, old man.

"The _point_ is to step into a more evolved position of social responsibility. To recognize that there is a world out there and that mutants are as much a part of it as normal human beings," he answers. I think I'm going to throw up!

"What if it never happens? What if they're so afraid of us that _we_ become the enemy? This place is going to be one giant cemetery!" He pales considerably. I don't think he's ever heard that argument before.

"That's Magneto talking," he says calmly. Oh, okay. Maybe he _has_ heard it before.

"No, that's _me_ talking! This is me!" I shout angrily.

"I need you to trust me."

"Trust," I scoff and shake my head. I pull my glove back onto my hand, powering down, and walk past him. "All I want is vengeance to wrap around your stinking hope," I mutter bitterly.

P.S.: Five pages total.


	14. Friendly Warning

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 14: Friendly Warning**

"So, why did you call me down here?" I ask, looking between Chuck and Scott. We're back down in the labs, looking at Scruffy's X-rays.

"You said that Erik was interested in adamantium," Chuck states, wheeling around to look at me. I cross my arms and shrug. Big deal! So what? "I was curious, do you happen to know what he wants with Logan?"

"What am I, your spying angel, Charlie?" I ask curiously. "I told you, I haven't spoken to Erik since the train, and when we did talk he never mentioned Scruffy or any diabolical plans, okay?" Christ, why can't he just believe me! I'm so sick and tired of this third degree bullshit!

"I'm sorry, but I had to ask," he states apologetically and wheels around to get a closer look at the X-rays.

"You know, it's already been thirty-two hours and you _still_ have no idea what Erik wants with Scruffy. Clocks a-ticking, Chuck," I warn him.

"What are you looking for, Erik? There are more powerful mutants. What could Magneto want with this one in particular?" he wonders.

"Maybe it's his way with people," Scott comments dryly, crossing his arms.

"You don't like him," Chuck states. I can hear the smirk. Hell, I'm smirking, too.

"How could you tell?"

"Well, I am psychic, you know." Same thing he said too me. It might be just me, but Chuck seems a bit too cocky lately. So unlike him. At that moment though, Scruffy bursts into the room, Ororo not far behind.

"Where is she?" Scruffy barks forcefully.

"Who?" Scott returns, looking at him like he's a maniac. Then again, he does kind of look like one. I'm surprised he's not foaming at the mouth. And that hair, yeesh!

"Rogue," Chuck answered, casting about with his mind again. Show off. "She's gone."

""Gone"?" I echo incredulously, looking from Scruffy to Chuck with concern. "What do you mean "gone"?"

"She's left the school," he answers. "Come, she couldn't have gotten far." With that, he rolls past all of us and into the corridor.

In the long, dark corridor, the walls and floor gleam. It's well lit, as usual, and strangely echoless. I hate that. It's almost as if we're in the dead past, waiting for the Langoliers to chew us up. Still, we follow Chuck to a thick steel door at the end of the hall that I haven't seen in a very long time.

"Where are we going?" Scruffy asks impatiently.

"To find Rogue," Chuck answers simply.

"How?"

"The brainwaves of mutants are quite different than those of the average human being," he explains, stopping eye level at a black screen. He leans forward and the screen lights up. "Cerebro amplifies my power. It allows me to browse the world's consciousness and find the genetically enhanced." The vertical beam scans across his eye and a picture of his retina appears on the screen next to a computerized image of the same. The two images overlap and match perfectly. "This is how I found you." This is how he finds everyone. A small beep and a loud knock of tumblers rolling and the vault door opens.

"_Welcome, Professor,"_ the computer drones. Figures that it would be a woman greeting him every time.

The doors open, and Scruffy walks behind Chuck further into the room while the rest of us wait at the door. This place hasn't changed a bit.

It's the same high spherical ceiling with that huge device in the center. Part computer, part super- structure. Cerebro is the sort of precision tangle of metal and wire that would seriously make Da Vinci drop to his knees and weep. The space in the bottom fits Chuck and his chair perfectly, a modification made after the accident by Erik. Suspended above its center though is a web of wires, tubes, and cables all connecting to the heart of the device: a chrome skullcap.

"Welcome to Cerebro," Chuck says, smiling lightly. God, I hate this room.

"This certainly is a big, round room," Scruffy deadpans, perhaps a little impressed. He's so dismissive though, I can't tell. He'd make a hell of a partner with an attitude like that though. Chuck just chuckles amusedly. Why does he always let Scruffy slide on shit like that? He'd never let any of us, certainly not me.

"The brainwaves of mutants are different from those of average humans. Cerebro allows me to find those brainwaves across great distances. Its how I plan to find Rogue," he explains.

"Why don't you just use it to find Magneto?" Good question.

"I've been trying. But he seems to have developed some way to shield himself from it."

"How would he know how to do that?" Another good question, on his part anyway.

"Because he helped me build it," he answers. Scruffy's silence clearly says he's shocked. After all, he's been staying in the home of a man who's protecting him from his enemy who just happened to be a former friend. Talk about uncomfortable. Not to mention complicated. "Gwen helped as well. You may ask her any of questions you might have." No, he may not! "Now if you'll excuse me…"

All of us watch as Chuck fits his wheelchair into the huge machine, followed by the chrome skullcap. The way that thing lowers onto his head, fitting like a second skin, is so damn creepy. Scruffy, thankfully, takes that as his cue to join us in the hall. Just as the doors shut, Cerebro hums and comes to life. What was dark and menacing is now a brilliant explosion of light.

"So, you helped him build that thing?" Scruffy asks, leaning against the wall next to me.

"Just as a power source," I answer, hanging my head.

"Sounds like fun." Is he serious or is that sarcasm?

"Trust me, it wasn't," I state, looking at him seriously. "I hate that room."

"Why?" Why? Why do you have to be so nosy? Why do you have to ask? Why do I want to tell you why? Life sucks.

"You know how Chuck's in a wheelchair?" I ask and Scruffy nods, looking at me like I'm dumb. "Who do you think put him there?" Frowning, I look away from his shocked face.

"You mean, you…in there?" I just nod and look back at the doors, remembering what Chuck told me about what would happen.

His mind would reach out, pass into its atmosphere and make a few orbits. All the while, he would hear the deafening voices of billions in every language and every thought. Every country, every city, every town, berg, hamlet, and village – all were subject to his control. But he would never be that manipulative. He's not power hungry like that. He would hear everything until the voices descend to a sizeable crowd of millions, then thousands, gradually working their way to the one he's looking for.

"Have you ever…?" Scruffy directs at Jean, nodding to the door.

"Used Cerebro?" she supplies and shakes her head. "No. It takes a degree of control, and, well, for someone like me, it's…" Too much to handle you candy ass, bitch!

"Dangerous," Scott states. Oh, he is so glaring at Scruffy from behind his shades! Smirking a little, I try to hold back my laughter. The door opens, thankfully crushing my laughter, and Chuck wheels out to us.

"She's at the train station," he states.

"Where is it?" Scruffy asks.

"About two miles from here," he replies and Scruffy begins to walk off. "Logan, you can't leave the mansion! It's just the opportunity Magneto's waiting for!"

"Look, _I'm_ the reason why she took off," he states, stopping to face him and tell us this.

"We had a deal," Chuck reminds him. Oh, him, too, huh? Chuck seems to be making a lot of deals lately.

"She'll be all right. She's just upset," Ororo assures him but Scruffy clearly isn't assured. Neither am I.

"Storm, Cyclops, find her. Bring her back," Chuck orders and they follow their orders. Once their gone, Chuck goes to the elevator to leave. He waits for Jean, who I see shares a look with Scruffy, before joining him. I push off the wall and pat Scruffy's shoulder as I walk away, entering the elevator as well. It's a quite trip to the surface.

-----------------------------

"Where do you think you're going?" I ask, switching on the light to the garage. There's Scruffy, sitting on Scott's motorcycle with the keys in the ignition.

"What, are you gonna tell on me?" he retorts. Yeah, right, like I'm so teenaged snitch. Hello! Twenty-four years old here! I'm adult! I don't snitch!

"No," I say, annoyed, "just be careful, huh?" Scruffy looks at me curiously. "Scott loves that bike. He's been restoring it for years," I state.

"Yeah, I'll try not to crash," he says with a smirk. Okay, that pretty much guarantees that he's _not_ going to be careful with it. I just nod, rolling my eyes and turn to leave.

"Oh, and, um," I begin, stopping in the doorway to look at him again, "Chuck is right. Erik…Magneto," I correct, "_will_ be waiting for you. Rogue's probably just bait. Watch your back," I warn.

"Are you worried about me, Livewire?" Scruffy asks, smirking cockily.

"No!" I answer quickly. "I'm just saying that…" What _am_ I trying to say? Am I really worried about him? No, not possible. Simply not possible. "Erik's got a thing for trains. And, when he travels, he doesn't travel alone." There, that should be clear enough.

"Thanks," he replies with a nod.

"Not a problem," I tell him. "Oh, and walk that to the gates before you start it up," I tell him as he puts his hand on the ignition. "Kids _do_ sleep here, Wolverine."

P.S.: Five pages total.


	15. Babysitting

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 15: Babysitting**

"Gwen."

Turning around, I see Chuck wheeling into the kitchen. I came down for a snack and, of course, there's not a drop of Vodka in sight. I was griping over the sink, with a stupid glass of water that I wished was Voddy, when he said my name. Looking at him, I can just tell he's going somewhere. Normally, around this time, he'd already be in bed. What's he up to this time?

"Hey, Chuck," I greet, raising my glass to him. "What are you doing out of bed? It's past your bed time," I joke.

"I'm going to the train station. Erik is there, along with Sabretooth and Toad," he states and I frown.

"You think he's got Scruffy?" I ask worriedly.

"I'm afraid he might if I don't hurry."

"You can't possibly think about going alone," I state pointedly, setting the glass down. "That's suicide! I mean, I know you and Erik used to be friends and all but things have changed. You've said it yourself a few times: he's insane." The old bastard may invade my mind a few times, but I do care about him.

"Jean will be going with me. Don't worry," he assures me. Great, take her, the teacher who never leaves the school and has never been in a real fight. You should've told me! I would've gone with you! "The fact is, with Scott and Ororo both there and Jean going with me there, the students would be alone. I can't leave them unattended."

"Wait a Goddamn minute here," I began, looking at him angrily. "You're leaving me here, by myself, to _baby_sit?"

"Think of it as practice," he states, turning away as Jean approaches.

"Practice for what?" I ask him, but he just smiles as he and Jean head out the door. "Hey! Practice for what?" The door closes. Bastard. I look around the hallway and sigh with a frown, hands on my hips. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

Walking down the hall, I see a light coming from the living room. Pulling off my glove, I stealthily make my way towards the light. Looking around the corner, I see a tiny head just over the back of the couch. Sighing in relief, I walk into the room.

"What are you still doing up, kid? Isn't it past your bed time?" I ask tiredly, walking around to stand at the arm of the couch. The tiny boy doesn't even look at me! He just continues to stare at the TV. Insolent four eyes! "Hey, kid, you in there?"

"Can't sleep," he states simply and blinks. The TV changes channels. Oh-kay, that's different. What a lame-ass power.

"Sorry to hear that, but Chuck left me in charge and I say," I begin, raising my hand towards the TV. The screen flickers for a moment before turning off, clouds of smoke curl out the back. Shit, maybe I used too much juice. Seeing that kid is staring at me, I quickly change my frown to a stern look and place my hands on my hips. "Go to bed, now."

"You're not like the other girls here, are you?" he asks while sliding off the couch; they're so short that they don't reach the bottom. I look down at him curiously. He's just standing in front of me, looking up through those bug-eye glasses.

"I'm really not," I reply, pulling my glove back on. "Come on, let's get some shut eye." He holds out his hand and I shake my head. His hand drops, a sad look on his face. "Nothing personal. It's just not safe after I've been using, even with the gloves," I explain solemnly, and the kid smiles a bit. Shit, he understands. He's understanding and doesn't care that I'm basically rejecting him. What kind of kid is this?

"Will you walk me to my room?" he asks innocently.

"Uh, sure," I reply awkwardly and he smiles, quickly leading me towards the stairs. I'm never babysitting for Chuck again.

P.S.: Two pages total.


	16. Interoffice Politics

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 16: Interoffice Politics**

"You said he was after me!"

Scruffy is pissed as he washes up. He was brought back not that long ago from the train station. I had been working out in the gymnasium, trying to blow off some steam about being left babysitting, when Ororo rushed in and told me to help them with Scruffy. I was confused at first, but when I saw that Scott was struggling to hold him up, I understood and help them drag him to his room. Before Scruffy ever woke up, Scott was gone and Jean was working on something in the lower levels. It was just me, Ororo, and Chuck with Mr. Surly.

"I made a terrible mistake," Chuck states and I hear Scruffy scoff. Of course you made a mistake! You said Erik was after him, but he took Rogue instead! "His helmet was somehow designed to block my telepathy. I couldn't see what he was after until it was too late," he explains apologetically. Scruffy obviously doesn't care though and makes for the door.

"Where are you going?" Ororo asks him, pulling his arm to stop him.

"I'm gonna find her," he states, pulling away from her.

"How?" Chuck asks.

"The traditional way: look!" he shouts, roughly throwing on his jacket and walks out. Flabbergasted, Ororo quickly walked after him.

"He certainly is surly," I comment from my place at the wall, arms crossed and one leg propped up. I am so tired. I just want to go back to sleep!

"He reminds me of you in some ways," Chuck states.

"Is it my rugged good looks, or the fact that I'm a burly mountain man?" I question sarcastically, scoffing and moving to sit on Scruffy's bed. "Scruffy and I are polar opposites."

"No, you two are both struggling with what you are. You try to blend in, be normal, but you aren't normal, Gwen. You never have been." You think I don't know that I'm a freak? I'd be a freak anyway if I thought I wasn't a freak to begin with!

"I know that. I've known it for years, and I've accepted it," I state forcefully. "Hell, I knew exactly what I was around the third time I was struck my lightning. Third time is, after all, the charm," I add bitterly.

"No, I don't think you have. I think you only _say_ you have," he replies, shaking his head at me. "You're still that little girl that came here in the red snow suit, looking for a home."

"Professor!"

Chuck and I both rush out of the room – or rather I rush and he rolls at a steady pace – at the sound of Ororo's panicked shout. As soon as we get to the first floor, Chuck by elevator and me by the stairs, I see Scruffy holding a man in his arms. I walk closer and see that it's that politician that Jean was arguing with at the Capital about a week ago. Senator Kelly, I believe his name was. Yeah, that was him but…what the hell is he wearing? Did he steal those clothes from a hobo?

"He needs help!" Ororo exclaims, helping Scruffy with the collapsed body.

"The mutant hater is coming to mutants for help?" I question sardonically, crossing my arms. Scruffy and Ororo carry Kelly past me and Chuck follows, after giving me a stern look. "This is why I hate politicians," I mutter, shaking my head and reluctantly following.

-----------------------------

"Senator Kelly? I'm Professor Charles Xavier." We're all in the lab now, surrounding the stupid Senator resting on the medical table. I still don't understand why we're being so damn nice to this bastard, but whatever.

"I was afraid if I went to…a hospital…they'd…"

"Treat you like a mutant?" Chuck supplies helpfully and Kelly nods. "We're not what you think. Not all of us." Why the hell are you looking at me?

"Tell that to the ones who did this to me," Kelly rasps vehemently and Chuck moves into position behind his head.

"Senator, I want you to relax. I'm not going to hurt you," he says soothingly. He slowly places his hands on Kelly's head, and begins to read his mind. I wonder what he'll see?

-----------------------------

Well, it didn't take long to answer that question.

Storm opted to stay in the lower levels to monitor Kelly when he woke up, so the rest of us were in Chuck's office, with the door closed despite that all the kids – even TV boy – were all asleep.

Chuck told us about the images from Kelly's mind and of the process that caused it. He told us of how he saw Magneto and how, after the process, he was thoroughly drained. He told us how Mystique had to pry him from the machine and helped carry him away. He told us how he called Kelley "brother".

"The machine appears to cause mutation in humans," Chucks explained.

"But the mutation is unnatural. Kelly's body is rejecting it. His cells began to break down almost immediately," Jean adds. I guess she took a sample to examine.

"What effect does it have on mutants?" Scott asks, sitting next to me on the couch. That shocked me, but I'm sure as hell not complaining.

"There appears to be none," Chuck replies, sending relief through all of us immediately, "but I fear it will do serious harm to any normal person."

"So Erik finally found the final solution to mutant haters," I comment sardonically, nodding my head. I have to admit, I'm impressed and a little proud. He should've told me about this. So much for friendship.

"What does he want with Rogue?" Scruffy asks and I perk up, looking straight at Chuck.

"I don't know," he replies, leaning back in chair with a sigh. Well then, what good are you? I'm not the only one worried; Scruffy is pacing restlessly. He looks like a caged animal, waiting to break free.

"Wait," Scott says, leaning forward on his knees. "You said this machine draws its power from Magneto, and that it weakened him," he states, sounding very sure. He's onto something.

"Yes. In fact, it nearly…killed him," he realizes. Oh, my God.

"He's going transfer his powers to Rogue to use her to power the machine. She's going to be its core," I state, sighing and throwing my head back against the couch. Of course! Why didn't I see it sooner?

"Its "core"?" Scruffy questions and I straighten myself out.

"Thomas Edison knew how to make the light bulb. He had the energy source. He had the vacuum. But he didn't have the filament. He tried metal after metal but nothing would hold to power," I explain cryptically. Hey, I'm entitled to an electricity metaphor every now and then!

"Until he found tungsten," Storms adds, nodding in understanding. Everyone else looks confused.

"Right," I say with a nod. At least someone understands me. Maybe I should clear this up. "Rogue is the only thing strong enough to hold the energy this machine produces. He already used it on Kelly, and we know how that worked out." Nods go around the room. Finally everyone understands what I'm saying! "I think he plans to use Rogue for a much larger demonstration."

"So, where do you think he's planning this "larger demonstration"?" Scott asks curiously.

"I don't know, and I'm offended that you think I would," I state, crossing my arms and turning away to ignore him. Jerk, accusing me of being a dirty double crossing rat.

"I'm going to find Rogue. Scott, ready the Blackbird. Jean, get Logan and Gwen uniforms," Chuck orders as he wheels towards the door.

"Wait," Scott states, stopping Jean as she moves to go out the door. To go get those uniforms, I assume. "He's not coming with us, is he?" Hmph, at least he's not mentioning me.

"Yes," Chuck replies. Wow, that explained a hell of a lot.

"Sir," Scott began adamantly, "I'm sorry, but they don't know the procedures! They'll endanger the mission, they'll –"

"Hey!" Scruffy interrupts angrily. Good thing he did, or I would've zapped Scott through the wall. "I wasn't the one who tore the train station a new sunroof, pal!"

"No, you were the one who stabbed Rogue through the chest," Scott retorts.

"Scott," Chuck warns sternly.

"Boys, if you can't play nicely…" I tease, smirking at the two of them.

"Look," Scruffy begins, stepping up to Scott and poking his chest, "why don't you take your little mission and –"

"Senator Kelly is dead!" Ororo is standing at the doors, breathless and clearly frightened. Chuck sighs heavily.

"I'm going to find her," Chuck states and looks from Scott to Scruffy. "Settle this," he orders sternly and leaves for Cerebro.

P.S.: Four pages total.


	17. Neurological Mischief

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

**Chapter 17: Neurological Mischief**

I don't know how, but some how this is all my fault.

Chuck is laying asleep in a hospital bed in the lab, again. Several electrodes are taped to his head, again. The screen next to the bed is monitoring his erratic brain waves, again. Jean and Scruffy are staring at the monitor, silently following its rhythm. Scott looks on from the door. I can clearly see his stress; he always crosses his arms and furrows his brow when he's stressed. Ororo is standing with me at the foot of the bed. I'm trying to hide my fear, but I know I'm not doing a very good job of it. Ororo has a hand on covered shoulder, trying to comfort me, but it pointless.

It's all my fault. I wasn't there when it happened, but I'm the one that found him.

The well-oiled machine that is Cerebro had gone horribly wrong so suddenly. He must've been in terrible pain. His back was arched and he was on the ground, fallen out of his chair. He couldn't move at all. He must've struggled to reach for the alarm we'd installed. Everyone heard the warning bells wail, but I was the first one there because I was already down there. I wanted to be there when he figured out where Rogue was.

I should've gone in with him. Screw the fact that Cerebro probably would've killed me or I might've gone insane. I should've been there. But I wasn't. I had to be the one to find him though, unconscious and convulsing. God, he looked just like he did last time.

"What's wrong with him?" Scott questions, voice horse. He's trying to be strong, for all of us, because he's the leader. He's a great man like that.

"His vital signs are weak and getting weaker. I'm in the process of running more tests. But it seems that every minute that goes by he gets weaker," Jean explains, voice trailing off as she basically says that Chuck's going to die. All the others are silent. I can't help but look to Jean with desperate eyes.

"Can you help him?" I ask, inhaling deeply to keep the tears at bay. He can't die!

"I don't know," she answers solemnly. I look back at Chuck. He's still lying there, motionless, looking like a vegetable. It makes my stomach turn.

"I'm sorry," Scruffy says sincerely. He's first to leave.

Whether he likes it or not, Chuck's grown on him. I can just tell that he's worried about the old bastard, same as me. Jean and Storm follow him but Scott stays. So do I. Scott's in so much pain, but he never shows it. He just kneels down next to Chuck and looks at his unblinking face.

"You can still hear me, can't you?" he asks. Sighing quietly, I move behind him and squeeze his shoulder comfortingly.

He needs to be alone – not wants, needs – so I leave and head towards Cerebro, the cybernetic bitch. Jean is already there, inside, and I join her to stand before the device. I share a look with her before getting to my knees, remove a glove, and zap open the control panel. We've come to a truce, I guess, and we don't talk while I look around the machine I helped build.

After a few minutes, I find the problem and rise to my feet. I look at Jean angrily, my back to the open control panel.

"It's gone. The neuro-filter, someone removed it," I state. Who the hell would do that? The only person who has access here is Chuck, and he sure as hell wouldn't remove it!

"What does that mean?" Stupid bitch, do I have to explain everything?

"The neuro-filter acts like a surge protector, regulating the infinite flow of information from Cerebro to the Professor's mind. It's what keeps him from being crushed by the consciousness of millions." Jean steps away, pondering my words. She looks like she understands the ramifications, the damage purposely placed on Chuck, but I don't think she fully comprehends it. "Do you think Chuck can repair his own mind?"

"I'm afraid, without Cerebro's help, he won't have the strength to heal himself. And, without the neuro-filter, there's no Cerebro," she explains and I shove my hand into my glove. "He's already losing control of his vitals. Respiratory. Cardiovascular. Unless we manage to replace the filter by tomorrow morning, I'm afraid…"

SHUT UP! CAN'T YOU SEE I'M UPSET! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THIS! STOP TALKING LIKE A DOCTOR FOR ONCE AND BE A HUMAN BEING!

"We have to find Magneto," I state angrily, pacing back and forth. I have no idea where he is, but I'll find him and, when I do, I'll kill him. He's not Erik to me any more, he's Magneto. He's the enemy.

"Are you all right?" Jean asks. Finally, she sounds concerned! It's a miracle!

"No, I'm…fuck, I don't know if I can do this without Chuck!" I exclaim, pointing at the super computer angrily. Sighing, I close my eyes and cover my face in my hands.

"He trusted you with this machine all those years ago for a reason, Gwen," she reminds me, a hand on my shoulder. "I'll trust you now to fix it. I'll even help." I drop my hands and look at her. She's smiling, wanly but still smiling. I nod and tell her to call up Dr. McCoy.

We'll need his help to fix Cerebro. The only way it'll work again is with the neuron-filter, and he's the only person I know who has the plans and can make in a few short hours and get it here before supper time. Big Boy Blue pulls through and Jean and I install the new filter. As soon as we make the final adjustments, reversing the sabotage, the lights come back on.

"Eureka," I mutter triumphantly. Nodding at Jean, I leave with a smile and head back to the lab to tell Chuck the good news. Even if he's unconscious, he can still hear me. That's how comas work. To my surprise though, there's Scott. Why the hell is he still here?

"You taught me everything in my life that was ever worth knowing," he states sadly, chuckling a bit, "and, I want you to know, if anything happens…I'll take care of them."

"He knows you will. That's why he chose you," I state and Scott whips around to look at me.

"Gwen," he begins, standing up and walking to me, "I know we haven't exactly gotten along since you got here…"

"To be more accurate, we haven't really even talked," I correct, smirking. Lighten the situation if you can, Gwen girl. Lighten it!

"Yeah, I know," he replies, hanging his head. Is he…ashamed? "The fact of the matter is, Gwen, is that I…I still…I still feel for you." THERE IS A GOD! "I don't think a day hasn't gone by that I didn't think about what we had."

"Scott, what we had was…" Great! It was the best thing I ever had in my whole life! I hate you for leaving me but I still love you for loving me, even if it was only for a short time! I hate you for picking Jean over me and…Jean. I can't do this to her. Not after all that work we did together, not after the truce. I can't. "Nothing," I state firmly, building up my resolve. I hate having a conscience. "It was two wasted years, and it was good to ends things when we did."

"You don't mean that." You're absolutely right!

"Yes, I do." NO, I DON'T!

"No, you don't," he states firmly, stepping even closer to me. God, he smells good, like freshly baked cookies and that good kind of after shave. "I may see things in just red, but I can still spot a lie from you a mile away." Always could. I hate that about you, even when we were kids. "I may not know you anymore, but I at least know that you're lying when you say you feel nothing now. That _I'm_ nothing."

"I'm the bad girl. You're the good guy. And you belong to Jean," I remind him pointedly. Scott just continues to stare at me.

Smiling slowly, I slip into my bad girl side and kiss my gloved fingertips and rest them on his lips. He sighs, leaning into them before pulling back. As I slowly back up a few steps, I put my gloves back to my lips. That was our first kiss. Not a real one, but close enough.

"Why is it that the good ones are always taken?" I ask and he looks down, hands in his pockets. Scott walks past me, not saying a word or looking at me, and leaves the lab.

"JEAN!" I whip around to see him running towards Cerebro. I follow after, wondering what the hell is going on. "JEAN, NO!" The doors to Cerebro close in front of him and I slide to a halt seconds after he starts hitting the door.

"Did what I think just happen actually happen?" I ask confusedly.

"She's using Cerebro!" STUPID BITCH!

"But she's not powerful enough!"

"I KNOW!" he shouts angrily and, not a second later, the doors open and we rush inside. I cringe to see him gather Jean, who's crumpled on the floor, into his arms. "Jean? Jean, speak to me, please," he begs, lightly touching her face.

"I know where Magneto's going," she groans painfully.

Christ, just when I think I've got Scott, she has to get hurt and be his again!

Ororo and Scruffy were called down not long after Jean told Scott and I everything. We quickly explained everything to them, and now we're down in the planning room with a three-dimensional map of liquid-metal illustrates all of our various points as we talk.

"The U. N. summit is on Ellis Island, here," Scott explains and the map visualizes it for us.

"We'll need to look for the highest vantage point. From what I figure, he'll need to gain as much altitude as possible to blanket the island," I explain, crossing my arms.

"Why do you figure that?" Scruffy asks.

"Because it's what I would do," I state with out hesitation. After a moment of silence, I look up to see the others staring at me, a bit startled. "If I were a homicidal psychopath, that is. My bet is the Statue of Liberty."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," Scruffy comments, shaking his head.

"You haven't begun to see my bad side." He smirks at me and I smirk back, amused.

"He doesn't know his machine kills," Ororo explains pointedly, "and if he gives Rogue enough power…" Yeah, we all know what happens then, Ebony. No need to spell it out.

"He could wipe out everyone in New York," Jean states. Okay, maybe _you_ need to spell it out.

"We'll fly the Blackbird in here," Scott says, changing the map again. "Come in around the far end of Ellis Island." I really love this map! Liquid metal is the best! Oddly enough, I think it's the one metal I affect the strongest, since its part water. Gotta love those double conductors.

"What about harbor patrol? Radar?" Scruffy asks, arms crossed and anxious to leave. Christ, he must really be worked up about Rogue.

"If they have anything that could pick up our ship, they deserve to catch us," Scott tells him, smirking proudly. I look at Scruffy, to gauge his reaction, and smirk. Look at that eyebrow, all quirked and confused!

All of us are dressed and ready to go now. Everyone's in his or her black suits – Ororo's actually has a cape thing attacked! Ha! – and Jean and I tied our hair back. Her, a sissy loose ponytail. Me, a tight kick ass braid that goes all the way down my spin. But, more importantly is my suit. It's, well…I can't lie! I love it! Tight leather pants that still allow mobility, knee high boots, and the top, oh! Chuck knows me better than I thought! Which, now that I think about it and the top, is kind of creepy. Nonetheless, I love the top the best. More leather and my stomach doesn't show, so that's a downer, but I love the halter neck. My shoulders, neck, and chest show so skin is an issue there but whatever. Chuck even supplied leather gloves for me, and there's all these little X's on the suit.

I guess I'm an X-Man now. Color me joyful.

Soon enough we're in the hanger. I remember seeing this place when Ororo gave me the grand tour. I was impressed, at first, and then I remembered that Chuck is filthy sticking rich so it wasn't all too surprising that he could bank roll the school privately, the underground, and a jet lovingly called Blackbird.

As soon as we're all inside and seated, Scott fires up the bird. I see the hatch slowly start to swing close as I hear the basketball court above us open up. A loud thump echoes inside the jet and – stupid kids! – left a basketball on the court! I look out the window just in time to see it bounce off the right side wing, my side. I'm sure Scott's told them not to do that, high-maintenance as he is.

Suddenly, the ground starts to vibrate and there's a grinding noise. I clutch my seat, but it's normal. Turbulence or something, Ororo assures me. I am not assured! I hate flying! That's why I took a fucking slow-ass train to get here! The Blackbird starts to rise and I can't control myself, I grip the arms of my seat tighter. The Blackbird takes off and suddenly turns. We've cleared the hanger and are blasting off into the night sky.

I grip the arms even tighter. The air crackles.

"Livewire?" I open my eyes to see Ororo looking at me, concerned.

"I'm fine," I assure her and slowly unclench my fists. "I'll, uh, try not to fry us now." She smiles at me, nodding as she settles back into her seat. Quietly, I release a nervous breath. I HATE FLYING!

"You actually go out in these things?" Scruffy questions, sneering at the black leather as he zips up. He may be adamant about it, but I like it just fine. No, I _love_ the leather. Suits me just fine, it's great. And him and Scott don't look too bad.

"What would you prefer, yellow spandex?" Scott mocks, slipping a few switches and ignoring Scruffy.

"Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it," I comment, leaning back on the headrest. Ah, the good old stripping days! How I loathe and miss them!

I admit that I'm at how fast this fucking jet is. We're already coming around the bridge! From my window, I can see Ellis Island. The event has security of every kind covering every inch of the island. Helicopters are coming in at about every minute to deliver those stupid fucking anti-mutant dignitaries and their precious little families from all over the globe. How sweet.

"Yellow ain't your color, sparky," Scruffy tells me, winking roguishly. I smile before looking out the window and catch my reflection.

What the fuck? I'm blushing? Damn! I turn back to look at him as he examines his stretching fingers inside of the gloves. It looks like a perfect fit, so why does he look…I don't know, weird-ed out? Well, I guess if I was wearing something felt as if it was made specifically for me, I'd be weird-ed out, too. Wait a minute…I _am_ wearing something that feels as if it was made specifically for me! Weird…

SHINKT!

WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING! He pops his claws through the leather on the back of the glove. I raise my eyebrow at him but he just goes on examining his glove. When he finally looks at me, I stare at him. He retracts his claws immediately, shrugging. Men, typical.

"There's the bridge." Scott's right. There it is. Manhattan is in view, and we're banking south. More joy. "Storm, some cover, please," Scott requests kindly and Ororo obliges with a nod.

I watch as her eyes go blank, completely white. When we were students and she would do that it scared me so much. She looked dead! It's still a little creepy, but I suppose I'm used to it. Sort of.

It's colder now, and I can see fog roll up. We easily sweep into our cover, and Scott does something with the monitors. Leaning forward, I can tell that he's turned on some kind of infrared scanner. I guess it's to mess with the security crews systems. I don't know. They could've just let me jump out and short circuit it all, but if they want to be all fancy and technical let 'em. Whatever.

"Radar Stealth Mode checks out," Scott tells us calmly, and I guess that means we've returned to full visibility. How that is when we're still underneath the fog, I don't know. "All right, there'll be less security north of the George Washington Bridge." Another bridge. Joy.

Water, for me, is a big no-no. If I ever touched it there would be a big decrease in the aquatic community. If there was ever an actual person in the water I touched, say a pool, they'd be dead in a second. One painful, agonizing second.

We're slowing down to a hover. I can hear the engines cycling down and my stomach drops as we lower down. I look out my window to see that we're _still _hovering above the water. About fifteen feet or so.

"V.T.O.L. off." Scott turns off a few switches, the engines cut, and we fall the last fifteen feet! He turned the damn things off too damn quickly! We land with a huge splash and start to float. I'm amazed that no one noticed or heard that, but I guess that has to do with the fog. "Sorry," he says. Funny. He doesn't sound too sorry.

"You call that a landing?" Scruffy mocks. Truthfully, he looks shaken. How cute is that? The big bad Wolverine hates flying. Eh, makes sense in a way. He is, after all, a land animal.

P.S.: Seven pages total.


	18. The Buddy System

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 18: The Buddy System**

We haven't left the Blackbird yet. I don't know why. No one knows we're here, so I think it would be safe to leave now. But does anyone here care what I think? No! Then again, I haven't opened my mouth, so I can't say that for sure but I bet I'd be right. Scott is monitoring the area on a video screen, and he looks so focused that I bet he wouldn't hear a word I'd say.

"The lights on the Statue of Liberty are off," Jean states, pointing to the monitor. Thank you, Lady Obvious.

"You did say that he would have to take a high vantage point," Ororo adds, looking over at me. Taking a deep breath, I hold it and look up at the Statue. Oh, I shouldn't have looked up.

"Doesn't get any higher than that," I comment and sigh, shaking my head and hands. Okay, I'm a _little_ nervous about climbing to the top of the torch. I have a thing about heights.

"Let's get going," Scott says and all of us unbuckle and head to the back. Once the ramp is lowered, all of us step onto and quickly off the wing tip of the Blackbird, onto the island. We climb over the fog-encased seawall with me nearly falling twice, had it not been for Scruffy – I've never scaled walls with the proper gear before but, apparently, those were banned from this team – and stand staring up at the Statue.

The island is…desolate. It's really wigging me out.

"We should check out operations, see if the Secret Service is still around," Scott orders and we nod, looking around in place.

"LOOK OUT!" Ororo shouts urgently. All of us look up and see the cap of the torch screaming down towards us out of the sky. We leap out of the way just in time as it crashes to the ground. I guess this solves the problem of where Magneto is hiding Rogue. I love being right!

"I'm going to assume that means that the Secret Service is out of commission," Scott comments dryly. "Jean, can you raise me up there?" he asks, turning to her.

"It's too far," she replied regretfully. Then what good are you, stupid? As she shakes her head, Scott looks around to assess the situation.

"So we go in the front," he decides and, before any one of us can say a thing, he's walking towards the front door. Jean and Ororo follow obediently, but that is not smart!

I'm a fucking professional, and the first rule you learn is to never go in the front – especially when you have no idea what's inside! Scruffy and I exchange and uncomfortable look; at least he agrees that this is a bad idea. Still, we have to go in.

We're at the main entrance. It's filled with scale models and full size displays documenting the history of Lady Liberty. One display showcases the metal strips which line the Statue for support. Note to self: those would hurt like a bitch if they hit you.

The Great Hall of Ellis Island. It's almost awe inspiring to be here, the place immigrants once poured into the new world by the millions. If only we weren't here hunting down a couple of homicidal maniacs then everything would be five by five. Magneto was one of those immigrants, at some point after World War II. I guess he's come full circle now, in a way. STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM! HE'S THE ENEMY!

Shaking my head, I follow the other others and quickly head for an exit on the far side of the room. Great, now we're in the fucking gift shop! As we walk through, I see a miniature Statue of Liberty and lift it, sliding it into the folds of my top. Everywhere I go, I take a souvenir to remember my time there. I'm not sure if I'll _want_ to remember this, but I'm not going to pass up the opportunity of an easy lift.

"…_festive garden-party atmosphere as they traversed the tight security…"_ Stupid TVs. There's nothing festive about this job.

We walk through the metal detectors one by one when I hear the sudden blaring. All of us turn, ready to attack to see Scruffy jamming his claws through the machine, silencing them I forgot that his entire skeleton is metal. He set the dumb thing off. As he retracts them, I see a very satisfied look. Scruffy looks over my shoulder though and extends one claw, the middle one, and I turned to see him giving Scott the finger. I smile, stifling my laughter as Scott grins angrily.

"So much for the element of surprise," I comment, shaking my head and continuing to walk with the others. "You just brilliantly gave an early warning for Magneto and whoever else is here." On my left, I hear Scruffy sniffing. What the hell is he doing?

"Someone's here," Scruffy states calmly, still as stone and all of us tense behind him.

Who's here? We already agreed that the Secret Service was out, and Magneto would be sure to have his lackey's with him, for protection. No one can be here! It's not possible! And how the hell can Scruffy smell them? BO? I don't smell anything! Oh, right! I forgot he has heightened senses.

"Where?" Scott asks, looking around with a hand carefully placed on his visor. Yeah, 'cause the blasting isn't going to draw attention to us.

"I don't know. Keep your eye open," he retorts and goes off on his own. I probably would've laughed at his joke about Scott's one eye, but I'm too nervous right now.

"Logan!" he calls angrily, but Sir Smells-a-Lot already gone. "Damn it," he curses. Scott looks back at us women and I roll my eyes.

"Well, if he's leaving then so am I," I say, very bored, and walk off in the opposite direction of Scruffy. If he smells something wherever he went, I so do _not_ want to go that way.

"Gwen!" Scott calls after me. He sounds shocked, annoyed, and confused. He's so cute when he's confused.

"Haven't you ever heard that splitting up can widen a search?" I call over my shoulder, smirking at the thought of how pissed he must be now. The torch, as much as I hate it, is where I have to go. That's the highest point and that's where Magneto will have Rogue. That's where I'll find them. I'm just at the stairwell when Magneto's personal Sasquatch jumps down out of no where, blocking me. "Hey, fuzzball. How's it hanging?"

Sabretooth growls at me and I immediately kick him in the balls. Not the nicest thing to do, but he's a bad guy who is much taller than me. I need an advantage. As he's hunched over, I punch him with all I have and he screams as he falls back. I stand there, frozen, watching him twitch. I just shocked him. Just a little bit, but I still did it – with my gloves still on!

Okay, this poses a problem.

Holding my hands up, I see my gloves smoking a bit but perfectly intact.

Right on, Chuck!

What the hell am I doing? There's no time to stand here and marvel at my new kickass gloves! I jump over Sabretooth's form and take off up the stairs. I hear this thumping behind me and, against my better judgment, I look over my shoulder to see Sabretooth. He's chasing me down and, just as I reach the top of the stairs, he catches me. Easily, I might add.

Big Foot must've decided that he was a wrestler with that little jolt I gave him because he pick me up by my waist, over his head, and throws me into the railing on the other side of the torch. What am I, a rag doll? I try to shake it off but I struggle to my feet. My body aches all over and I'm dazed.

I look up, trying to unrattle my brain, only to find Sabretooth running full steam at me. I try to move out of the way, but my body is just not working since that hit. He tackles me, slamming me into the railing. I scream in pain as I feel the metal railing bend against my spine. You're going to pay, Sasquatch. You will pay!

I reach up to punch him with my fist charged up, but he grabs both of my wrists. Oh, God, I think he's trying to break them! I soon realize that I'm falling backwards and I struggle to keep my feet on the ground. You asshole! You think you can try to push me over the edge! You think you can push me down...I look over my shoulder and HOLY SHIT! YOU THINK YOU CAN PUSH ME DOWN SEVERAL HUNDRED FEET TO MY DEATH WITHOUT A FIGHT!

Ugh, who the hell am I kidding? I'm weakening. Sabretooth is in complete control; he knows it and I know it. I'm a goner. This is it, this is the end. I never thought I'd go out like this. I thought I'd be my fifteenth bolt of lightning that did me in.

"Your boyfriend is next," he whispers in my ear. He may be a psychotically evil bastard, but God does he has a nice voice! It's got that growl that'll make a girl all buttery in her nether regions, just like Scruffy. Wait! What does he mean by "boyfriend"? I don't have one of those! It's physically impossible! He _can't_ mean Scott. Does he? Maybe Scruffy?

What does it matter which one? With all the strength I have left, all my might, I push my clenched fists as close to Sabretooth's face as I can. BZZZT! Sabretooth springs back to protect his fuzzy face. I guess he doesn't like electrical currents. Silly kitty. Didn't Magneto tell you not to play with electricity? Guess not since I tricked you into freeing me! Sucker!

I've had enough of this. I remove both of my gloves and wind my arms back before pushing them into Sabretooth's. Another current sends him flying back to the other side of the torch handle. Ha! Look at his hair! Check out that static! Ha! This isn't over yet! I can do this!

AHHH!

Okay, him tackling me at full speed, like some kind of train plowing into a stalled car is not very nice. The metal railing snaps and we both go flying into the steel wall of the handle. I avoid touching the metal directly as I zap him off of me once again. He stands over me as I slump to the ground. He growls and turns his back on my and I can't help but look up with brutal determination crossing my face. Straining, I haul myself up by my legs alone, remembering to not touch the metal with my hands.

Clenching my fists, I build up a charge. Raising my arms, I release a stream as strong as the one as I had a Gills Rock. It goes straight to Sabretooth's back and he lands on the floor.

"I ain't…finished with you…yet, Chewbacca," I gasp painfully, holding my side. He rises to his feet and just looks at me. I know I must look beautiful, bleeding, beaten and panting for breath. Yup, I'm the next Miss America. An amused look crosses his face and he starts to laugh. I'm not sure why. It's either because I'm still standing or because I'm actually challenging him when I can barely breathe.

Personally, I find the immense pain I'm in right now hilarious!

"You?"

"Why not?" I shrug. "Good things can come in small packages."

My breathing is strained. I think all that tackling cracked a rib…or two. Blood's stained my uniform. The leather is ruined. It'll take forever to wash all the blood out. Thank God I don't plan on wearing this thing ever again. It's Chuck's problem now. Still, even while I'm tying _not_ to cough up blood, I'm in control. Sasquatch has already taken in the situation, a little quicker than I would've liked, and walks towards me. SHIT!

Think fast, Gwen girl! Clench your fists. Check. Start a current. Check. Get ready to kick some Chewbacca ass! Check! The air starts to crackle, and Sabretooth's hair starts to stand on end…again!

"I don't think so," he growls. Like I care what _you_ say, Big Foot. Before I can even blink, the back of his hand connects with my jaw and I fly back against the wall…again. I drop to the ground again, head hanging low and in my hands. Okay, this whole Gwen-is-a-rag-doll-for-me-to-abuse-aerially is getting on my last Goddamn nerve! Ow, my head!

"I would not do such a thing if I were you." I look up at the familiar voice and see Erik.

No! Magneto! All he is now is Magneto. This is _not_ my mentor. This is _not_ my father. This is just a psycho in a weird helmet and cape playing revolutionary. Still, he has his hand firmly on Sabretooth's wrist, which is in mid-air. It looks like he was about to slash me. Probably my throat. After all, I have zapped him quite a few times, and his sad excuse for claws to my throat would end that permanently. Sabretooth drops his arm though, Magneto releases him, and he walks away.

"Electrokinesis," he muses, kneeling before me. "You always had such a fascinating power, Gwendolyn. What I wouldn't give for it. Alas, metal is all I'm good for," he sighs, almost sounding sad. Yeah, right. "But it seems to serve me well enough." What does _that_ mean?

WHAM!

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!

After landing face down onto the floor – which I do not recommend, by the way – I look up to see a huge piece of shrapnel, floating and wavering a few feet above me. I zap Big Foot a few times and I get hit in the back with a huge ass piece of shrapnel? Where's the justice in that?

"I do love a good checkmate," he laughs, smiling down at me. Bastard! Using my own pun against me! I guess he's still sore about my blasé attitude on the train.

"What do you want?" I ask, gasping painfully at I sit up. Don't think about the pain! Ignore it! Be stone!

"Join with me, and I'll let you live. The others, well," he says, inhaling sharply as if weighing his options, "I can't make the same promise." A warning. A threat. Silent but forceful, deadly.

"You think I care about them? I'm pretty damn sure that I'm the only one who's going to walk out of here in one piece," I bluff. Well, partially bluff. I probably _am_ the only one who's going to get out of here alive. As much as I love the "X-Men" – and, believe me, it's bunches – they're a bit dense. Logan is the only exception. He'll probably leave in a body bag and wake up in the morgue, good as new.

"Then why don't you kill them?" Okay, _that_ I did _not_ expect. "Go on. Kill them all. You can kill them quicker than I can, and so much more painfully," he says jovially. "A bolt of lightning in a copper conductor? All _I_ might do is cripple them. Perhaps I'll start with Mr. Summers. Or perhaps I'll start with you," he threatens. I look up to see the shrapnel standing downwards, hovering over my knees and moving in a small stabbing motion. Ouch! "Do them a favor, Gwendolyn. Show them mercy."

"What are you going to do?" I ask. Hold him off, stall him, keep him busy until one of the others get here.

"In the road to survival, there is always sacrifice, Gwendolyn. _We_ are the future, not _them_. _We_ must protect ourselves. After tonight, when the leaders of the world return home, they will return as our brothers, as mutants, and our cause will be theirs."

My God, that sounds so preachy. Still, he's right. I admit it. I see his point and I support it, to an extent. Why, oh why, do you have to be crazy? It just makes all of this so much harder!

"This is survival, I know you understand that, Gwendolyn…or is it Livewire now?" Is he mocking me? How does he even know about that? Oh, God! Raven! She's the one that tampered with Cerebro! She's been spying on all of us at the school for only God knows how long! I should've been more careful, paid more attention! Goddamn it!

I hear movement and see Sabretooth walking towards me. I'm too weak to move. I definitely know that I've cracked some ribs now. I'm scared as hell as he gets closer. I'd be a fool to not be! Just as I think he's going to finish me off, he produces a large syringe from behind him and quickly sticks it in my neck. I lift up my arms to zap him but…but…what was I doing again?

"Now you'll see things my way," he says. His voice sound so…distant, so far away…

Is that thunder I hear? It's…booming.

What was _that_ sound?

Was that…screaming?

No…couldn't be…

I turn my head – wow, everything is spinning! Cool! – and see Magneto stand on a railing outside from some high perch – perch, that's a funny word. I guess he's overlooking the island. I want to see the island from up here! I wonder if I can fly? That would be bitch considering I hate flying. Maybe if I could fly, I could get over my fear.

Wait. He's not even on Ellis Island. Not technically. DUH, Gwennie girl! HA! He's standing on the catwalk around the torch of the Statue. He has his back to the gold translucent flame – and to me! Look at that cape. It's all…flappy in the wind – looking over at the activity _on_ Ellis Island.

Hey, I can hear that stupid band from all the way over here! HA!

"Give me your tired, your poor," he says, inhaling the cool evening breeze, "And your huddled masses."

That doesn't sound good.

…What am I supposed to be doing right now?

Oh, yeah! I remember now. I have to kill those stupid do-gooders, the X-Men. Time to play.

P.S.: Seven pages total.


	19. No Fear

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 19: No Fear**

Ow, my head! It's killing me!

Cracking open my eyes a little, I groan and cover them with my arm – hey, my gloves are back! – to block out the bright light. Where the hell am I?

"Hello, stranger."

Turning my head to the side, I crack my eyes open again to see Scott greeting me with a smile. I smile back, reaching out and touching his face. Seriously, my gloves are back on; how did _that_ happened? More importantly, where the hell am I? Suddenly, Scott pulls back and looks apprehensive.

"Are you really you?" he questions, observing me closely.

"Yeah, I'm really me," I reply, not quite sure what he's talking about. Is he on drugs or something? "Where am I?" I ask hoarsely, feeling very weak. Another good question: how the hell did I get here? Last thing I remember is Magneto and old Sasquatch. Good, my chest hurts! I can feel the bandages around my ribs. I hate feeling this weak. It's pathetic, but Scott hovering over me is nice.

"You're backstage at the encore of creation," he jokes straight-faced. "Where do you think you are?" Is this a trick question?

"Medical," I answer, sighing happily. I never though I'd be happy to be back here, lying on a cold slab underneath the school. Home sweet home. "What happened?" I ask, shifting my back to get more comfortable.

"Magneto drugged you," he tells me slowly, leaning down toward me. I guess my face is betraying the pain in my chest, the hurt. Erik – no, Magneto – drugged me, manipulated and used me against the people I guess I love. He controlled me like some sort of puppet! "He was quite proud of it," he adds nervously. "Are you okay?" NO!

"I don't know," I say instead. Scott just concerned; I shouldn't yell at him. "Am I?"

"Jean says you'll be fine. A little disoriented at first, but no permanent damage to speak of."

"No damage beyond what's already been done," I correct bitterly, looking up at the ceiling tearfully and swallowing the lump in my throat. Don't cry. Be stone.

"Gwen, I…when you were under his control," he begins and I watch him swallow nervously, "I don't know if you remember anything, but…" I shake my head and touch his arm to stop him. Thankfully, he does.

"Whatever I said or…or _did_, Scott, it was whatever that drug was doing it, not me," I tell him. I don't know what happened and I don't really want to know. Scott looks so distraught and in need of assurance that he's not to blame that I never want to know what I did, not ever. If it hurts Scott this much, I don't even want to think about it.

"Yeah, I know. I just…" He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before clutching my hand tightly. "You scared me." I _never_ want to know what I did.

"That's nothing. I scare people on a daily basis back in LA," I joke, smirking up at him.

"I'll bet you do," he replies, smiling widely. Thank God the awkwardness is over! "The leather, right?"

"Surprisingly, no. It's the hair. Something about a girl with multicolored hair just _screams_ trouble." We smile at one another and Scott slowly runs his free hand through my hair, careful not to touch my scalp. Still, it feels nice. _Really_ nice. "How's everyone else? Rogue, Chuck? What happened to Scruffy after he left?" I ask, eyes closed as he continues his slow ministrations. Why must you torture me so?

"Well, Rogue is fine. She's got some hair to challenge yours, she's back in class and worried senseless about her heroes, but fine," he answers and I open my eyes, looking at him curiously. Did he just say "heroes"? He can't be talking about me. Scruffy, yes, but me?

"She thinks I'm a hero?" I ask incredulously. "I wasn't even in the right state of mind when she was rescued. According to you, I probably tried to kill her." DON'T THINK ABOUT THAT! "How can she think I'm a hero?"

"Well, you two are a lot alike. She relates to you," he reasons. Yeah, I guess so. "The Professor woke up not too long ago. He's in his room, resting, and Logan is…well, see for yourself." I roll my head to my left and see him. That can't be Logan! He's lying on another lab table, in serious condition, with tubes in his nose and arms. God, he's actually bleeding, he's actually hurt. I didn't think that was possible.

"Damn," I breathe and clench my teeth, turning my head away. I guess he's not such a great healer after all. "Care to be a gentleman and escort a girl to her room?" I ask lightly, smiling wanly.

"It'd be my pleasure." I smile as I sit up and slowly slide off the table. Scott's with me the whole way, too. He's standing just a few inches away, spotting me. Still, I don't need him. I'm fine! I'm standing, and I'm fine. I'm taking a couple of steps and I'm fi…whoa, I'm so not fine.

"I'm okay. I'm okay," I tell him, even as I start to collapse under my own weight and straight into his arms.

"Sure you are," he replies sarcastically, wrapping an arm around my waist. The walk to my room is a blur. I'm sure we passed some students. Maybe even Ororo or Jean, but I don't remember. All I remember is the smell of Scott's aftershave and the feel of his arm around my waist.

* * *

Light pushes through the blinds. A gentle breeze moves them. It feels nice. It feels like that perfect place between awake and asleep, the place where you can just lay in bed and be comfortable all day long. I used to get that all the time when I was a kid. Even when everything was falling apart with my family, waking up in that place was all I needed. It was perfect.

Sitting up in my bed, I notice that the bandages on my chest have been changed and that a thick blanket covers me. Scott must've done this. He's so sweet like that. I ease myself out of bed and hobble over to the blinds and pull them open. Christ, I'm hobbling. I never thought I'd be hobbling in my twenties! I blink to adjust to the bright sunshine filling my room, and that's when I notice a box with a card sitting on the bureau.

"Okay, this seems familiar," I mumbled, picking up the card and opening it.

_Welcome home, Gwen. -X._

Thanks, Chuck. You randomly leaving gifts in my room for me to find isn't creepy at all.

Reaching into the box – figuring, what the hell? – and pull out…a dress? And new gloves? Okay, forgetting the dress for a minute, I toss it on the bed and quickly exchange one of my gloves for one of the new ones. God, I feel like a kid at Christmas, but what kid in their right mind would be excited over getting gloves at Christmas? Me, that's who.

Yeah, I'm a freak.

I easily stretch my fingers in it. It's snug, a perfect fit. What's the point though? These gloves are just going to end up like all the other ones, charred and ruined. Before I even realize what I'm doing, my fists are clenched and a crackle hisses in the air. SHIT! I can't ruin these damn gloves when I just got them!

Huh, that's weird. No smoke. Not burning. No nothing. I'm positive that an electrical current is going through me and touching the glove, but it's not burning up. Reaching down slowly, I touch the bed to see if it'll get shocked or catch fire – _some_thing – but there's nothing. Just like my uniform gloves. Wicked!

Okay, I give. I guess I'll try the dress now.

It's not really my type. It fits me neatly and it's a nice light blue with faded light blue patterns that look like electricity at the hem and neckline. It's a nice reminiscent of my power, but it's not really something I want to be reminded of everyday. Truthfully, as I stand facing the mirror above my bureau, I'd rather forget I'm a freak. Well, okay, I'll admit it. The dress looks good on me. I know it, and I can't help but smile. Even though I could never actually where it, since it shows more skin than necessary – despite being something Jean would probably have in her closet: modest – I still really like. Focusing in the mirror, I see something else. Someone behind me. SHIT!

"Don't you knock?" I ask rudely, glaring at him. There he is! Good old Chuck, sitting in the doorway! I'm so stupid! I should've known someone would find me like this! I just hate that it's him, but I'm glad to see he's up and run…uh, _roll_ing again.

"Full protection now without fear, made specifically for you. I'm glad you like them," he says, nodding to the gloves. Nice. "They're all asking how you're doing. Are you feeling up to saying hello to everyone?" he asks cordially.

"Actually," I say, pulling the other glove on, "I'm feeling up to leaving." I quickly pull on my leather pants under the dress, buttoning and zipping them as I walk into the closet. Carefully, I pull off the dress and exchange it for a simple cotton tank top. No leather top today. Sabretooth hurt my chest something fierce. I need mobility right now.

"Why? You have a home here, as you always have," he tells me. I can hear how surprised he is at my decision. Why, I don't know. I told him when I first got here that I didn't plan on staying. "Everyone will…"

"What, miss me?" I ask skeptically, stepping out of the closet. "Chuck, I'm going to walk out the front door and trust me, it couldn't be sooner for everyone here." I reach down and pull out my duffle bag. "Can I, um…?" I point to the dresser and back into the closet, filled with clothes that aren't mine.

"Of course. Everything in this room is yours," he reminds me with a nod. I crane my neck backwards, a bit confused but still touched by the gesture.

"Thanks, I'll pay you back," I promise. I meant it, too. I've got the money and the means. I start to shove some clothes, both my leather and the ones Chuck apparently bought, into the bag. But, remembering what he said, I don't pack it all. If this place really _is_ my home and the door is always open, then what's the harm in leaving some clothes?

"Not necessary," he assures me. "If you're going to leave then you at _least_ owe them a goodbye. I have to speak to Logan right now though. He's made a full recovery, in case you were wondering," he tells me and I look at him over my shoulder, smirking amusedly.

"You know I was." I tap at my temple and he smiles. "I'll meet you down there," I tell him and he nods. Still smiling, he rolls out and leaves me alone.

P.S.: Five pages total.


	20. Saying Goodbye

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 20: Saying Goodbye**

"There's an abandoned factory at Alkali Lake in the Rockies of Alberta not far from where we found you," Chuck says to Logan. Is that what he meant by "everything in his power"? Here's a map, Logan. So long and good luck. "There's not much left, but you might find some answers," he adds and Logan just nods, staring at the map. This planning room is so…plain. Just like the rest of the underground levels, all metallic and shiny.

"Thank you," he replies and hoists his bag over his shoulder.

"You heading out, Wolverine?" I ask, making my presence known as I strut further inside. Both of the men look at me and Logan drops his bag back to the floor, next to mine when I stop beside him. I bump shoulders with him lazily, smirking as I do so. Shockingly, he smiles and shakes his head. Scruffy sure has lightened up since I first met him.

"Yeah, back to Canada. You?"

"Back to LA." I'd love to keep you warm in Canada, Scruffy – I really, _really_ would – but I've got clients to get back to. Damn it. And there's the fact that I could kill you with just a touch of my pinky.

"I do wish you'd reconsider, Gwen. The students could learn from you," Chuck tells me, rolling around the map table and towards us.

"Uh-uh! No way!" I exclaimed, backing away from him, shaking my head and arms. "This is it, Chuck. Last time, no more favors from me, okay? Besides, learn from me? Learn what exactly, the finer points of picking pockets? The fung schwai of hacking security systems?" I scoff at him. The idea of _me_ teaching is absurd! "Come on, Chuck, be honest. What could good kids here learn from a bad girl like me?"

"School seems to be missing a sex ed teacher," Logan states and I slap his shoulder playfully as he laughs. I can't help but grin angrily at him. What a smart ass! I love it!

"Gwen, you've helped Rogue start to understand her gift; you've helped her realize she's not alone. It could be damaging to her if you left," he states seriously. Nice guilt trip. Way to make me feel bad about going back to my life. Nice. "That goes for you as well, Logan," he adds, staring pointedly at Scruffy.

"Rogue doesn't need us," Logan retorts firmly. Oh, no, Chuck! Watch out! He's putting his foot down! "She needs to be around kids like her, not adults like us." Oh! And the foot is through the floor!

"Bitter, sarcastic, hard headed, lonesome –" I list on my hand.

"Hey!" Logan shouts indignantly.

"I was just describing me, promise," I tell him, winking. That's a lie and he knows it.

"Well, if there's no convincing you…" Chuck sighs. Damn guilt trip! Sighing quietly, I walk over and hug him tightly, my hair cushioning his skin to protect us both.

"Bye, Chuck. I think I'll miss you," I say honestly.

"You'll be back," he says confidently as I pull back, "both of you. Your kind tends to gravitate here."

"Sure we will. Thanks again," Logan says, rolling his eyes and we both turn our backs on him.

"Are you going to say goodbye to them?" Chuck asks. I look over at Logan, who's looking at me, and I can't help but frown. So, he wasn't planning on saying goodbye either. Stiffly and without looking back, Logan picks up his bag, I grab mine, and we both walk out.

"So, you need a lift?" he asks as we get inside the elevator.

"You're willing to take me back to LA? Isn't that _way_ out of you way?" I ask. Either he's crazy or he's _really_ crazy.

"I wouldn't mind some bitter sarcastic company," he replies, shrugging. "Besides, if the truck breaks down, I'll need you to jump-start it."

"Oh, okay! I see how it is!" I exclaimed, highly offended but smiling as the doors open and he steps off, laughing. What an ass! I hate that we're so much alike! He's lucky in that regard, otherwise I would've zapped his hairy ass!

I follow him out the hall and we walked together towards the living room. We both stopped to look inside the happy community – a place neither of us could ever _really_ belong – and saw Scott, Ororo, and Jean sitting in front of the wide screen TV. They were watching a report on the Mutant Registration Act vote. Looking around again, I realized that a dozen or so students were milling around as well. Since the living room doubled as an activity room as well, they were either watching the report or playing games. I knew that as soon as my eyes caught Rogue playing foosball against two boys with another boy as her partner. I noticed that Logan had seen her, too.

Logan and I, on the other hand, were completed unnoticed.

"_Even after last week's terrorist vandalization of the Statue of Liberty by an unidentified mutant organization, the outcome of the vote was 51 to 49 in opposition to the Mutant Registration Act,"_ the anchorman announced blandly. Clearly a non-mutant supporter. Bastard. But even his considerably surly attitude couldn't kill the loud cheer that erupted into celebration.

"Quiet! Quiet everybody!" Scott orders over the roar, and all the students listen immediately.

"_This narrow defeat was probably due in large part to the surprising last-minute reversal by Senator Robert Kelly, who until today provided the loudest voice in the cry for Mutant Registration. Earlier today, Kelly had this to say…"_ The TV cut to a shot of Kelly struggling to get through the reporters grilling him as he walked down the Capitol steps. I hate politicians.

Wait a minute? Senator Kelly? Didn't he die, here, in the basement of this very school?

"_If we cannot go into the future together, the divisions of fear and prejudice will tear this country apart. __I was wrong on this issue, and I hope that in time, I may be forgiven.__ No more questions."_ I watched closely as he moved through the crowd. Ororo has the remote in hand and I saw her lean forward, putting the TV on pause. Kelly's eyes were flashed yellow as someone's shoulder hit him. What the fuck is that?

"Mystique," Ororo states. SHIT!

"Son of a bitch," Scott curses, leaning back against the couch with a sigh. The celebration continues unabated though, and it looks like the kids didn't even notice what us adults did. But that's kids for you.

Scott, Ororo, and Jean are just sitting around the coffee table, chatting like nothing's changed. I hate to admit it but I wish I was there, hanging on Scott's arm like Jean is. I hate that I don't belong, I hate that I still love Scott, and I hate that I don't even care. God, I hate my life! Logan nudges my shoulder and I look over at him. He nods to the front door and I nod back, holstering my bag and walking again.

"Gwen?" I turn around and see Scott, standing there, looking so fine and nervous. God, he is so adorable when he's nervous and shifty like that. SNAP OUT OF IT! "Can I talk to you?"

"Well, I think you already are," I retort. At least he noticed me leaving! Why am I being such a bitch? Oh, yeah, because that's just who I am! Duh! Looking back at Logan, I noticed him talking to Rogue and sigh, nodding to Scott. I've got some time to kill.

"I figured you'd be leaving, so I wanted to explain that it was Jean." Okay, color me confused. "All those years ago, it was Jean that kissed me." Oh, that. "I was trying to push her away when you came in."

"I, uh…" Shit, what the hell am I supposed to say to that? Be honest, Gwen girl, just be honest. That is the best policy after all, right? "I'd always kind of hoped that's what it was but…Scott, you and Jean have been together for almost eight years now." I hate having an angel to sit on my shoulder. "You're happy and, as much as I want to get in the way, my damn moral compass won't let me. So, let's just try to stay friends, okay? I'm kind of lacking in those."

"Friends, right." Oh, my God! He actually sounds disappointed! He wants more! YES! There is hope! "Are you going to come back?"

"No," I reply quickly, shaking my head and laughing. "Well, Chuck says I will but I don't plan on it."

"Okay." Before I know it, I'm in his arms with him hugging me tightly. "It was nice seeing you again. Don't be a stranger," he whispers and pulls back. God, Scott, why do you have to make me want to cry? "You need anything, call me."

"I'll do that," I say hoarsely. Kissing my gloved fingers, I repeat the same process as I had before and press them to his lips. Again, he sighs and leans into them. I drop my hand. "Goodbye, Cyclops." I love you.

"Bye, Livewire," he says and slowly walks away. Shake it off, Gwen girl.

"God, that still sounds weird," I mutter to myself and quickly wipe my eyes clean. Turning around, I walk back towards the front door to join Logan and Rogue just in time to see him hand her some kind of dog tags.

"I'll be back for that," he tells her. Rogue just smiles at him, clutching the metal in her gloved hand. God, she's smiling at him the way I used to smile at Scott…_still_ smile. That's not good.

"Come on, Scruffy, we got miles to kill and we're losing daylight," I state loudly, killing the awkward mood between them. Logan actually looks thankful and nods shortly.

"You're going, too?" Rogue asks, disappointed. Not _another_ guilt trip! God, why do you hate me?

"Sorry, but yeah. Time for me to go back home."

"I understand. I'll miss you guys. Good luck," she says and goes back to playing foosball with those boys. Hmm, she's smiling at that blonde one, too. Interesting.

"Nice kid. Reminds me of myself when I was her age," I comment as we walk out the door. "Hope she doesn't end up like me."

"You're not so bad. Just about the only one around here I can stand to be around for more than five minutes," Logan tells me. I almost believe him.

"Except Jean," I correct and Logan stops to stare at me. "I'm untouchable, Logan, not blind," I state pointedly. "Typical Jean. She sees something she wants, she goes after it – no matter who she hurts. First it was Scott, and now it'll be you." I sigh and look at him concernedly. I can't help it; I like the big furball. "Just…be careful around her, all right?" I warn and he nods. As he looks around, I can just tell that he doesn't care. He's going to flirt, pursue, hold a torch, whatever you want to call it, for Jean for as long as possible. Until she's either his or dead, most likely. Men! And why is it…that…why is he heading straight for Scott's parked motorcycle? "What are you doing?" I ask him. Logan just turns around and smirks at me. "If I remember correctly, I believe I told you before that was _Scott's_ bike."

"So? I thought you were a bad girl, a thief," he challenges. I smirk at him, infuriated by the insinuation that I'm a chicken, and walk over to him.

"I am _not _a thief," I state, getting on behind him and putting my arms around his waist. "I'm a professional," I correct and he chuckles, looking around the front for a slot or something where keys might be hidden. Scott tends to do that. "Hey, you do know that Scott was jealous of you, right?"

"Well, I think that's perfectly understandable." So egotistical, so confident, so utterly masculine. I love it.

"I suppose so. I'll tell you one other thing though."

"You aren't gonna be yakking the whole trip, are you? It's a long walk to Los Angeles, Sparky," he threatens.

"Just one last thing, I promise, Scruffy," I swear, making sure to emphasize his nickname.

"All right, what is it?" he sighs, popping out his middle claw and sticking it into the ignition.

"That if you called Scott 'Sport' or 'One-Eye' one more time, he would've blown a watermelon-sized hole through you." Logan laughs and starts the bike.

"It would've been interesting to see how I'd survive that," he says and I laugh, hitting his shoulders. Without another word, Logan speeds forward and we motor out the gates and down the road.

Not once do either one of us look back.

P.S.: Five pages total**.**


	21. Friend & Foe

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

Once again, this is not a Gwen POV so there's nothing but Xavier and Erik speaking.

**Chapter 21: Friend and Foe**

"I wouldn't really have let you die, you know. I just needed…"

"I know."

"Doesn't it ever wake you in the middle of the night? The feeling that some day, some day very soon, they will pass that foolish law, or one just like it, and they will come for you and your _children?_ Take you all away?"

"It does indeed."

"And what do you do, when you wake up to that?"

"I feel a _great_ swell of pity for the poor soul who comes to that school…looking for trouble."

"Why do you come here, Charles? Oh, yes, you continue to search for hope. This plastic prison won't hold me forever. The war is still coming, Charles. I intend to fight it, by any means necessary. And to win a war it takes the will to fight it at all costs, by any means necessary. And for that reason, I will _always_ have the advantage. No matter how you trap me, how I am contained…I will _always_ find an escape."

"And _I_ will always be there, old friend. Check."

"And mate."

P.S.: One page total.


	22. Ground State

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 22: Ground State**

2002

Elliot, my latest client, has been very kind to me – so far. I know he doesn't care about me personally, but at least I get a Sugar Daddy again for a little while. Hell, he's even paying for my room and board at the hotel, since there's no way I'm risking his goons following me to my loft. Not to mention he's provided transportation: a nice white limousine that I've been sitting in for the past twenty minutes. It's stopping in front of Elliot's hotel entrance right now. He told me to be discreet when I came for our meeting, but I haven't been discreet since I left New York, the first time.

I do things my way or not at all. Anyone who doesn't like it can go to hell. Magneto had no problem with that. Neither did Scruffy or Papa Cue-Ball.

So, here I am, walking through the hotel restaurant in my usual attire. When I first got back to LA, all I wore was casual cotton stuff and lived off my savings since I was injured. But that was two years ago and I'm fully healed now. I'm back to tight leather pants with matching tube tops. I'm in the red pair right now. Not my favorite color, but it's an attention grabber and I thought Elliot would appreciate it.

I can see him all the way in the back, fidgeting in his dark suit and looking nervous. Smirking, I start to walk down between the aisles toward him, pulling up my black gloves and letting my hair bounce behind me. I know that all the other old men are turning their heads to watch me as I walk by, like men usually do when I just walk down the street.

It's the leather, and all that sexual, dominatrix fantasy shit.

"I thought I said discreet," Elliot states, looking pointedly at my attire. He's shaking his head with a sigh as I sit down in a chair opposite from him.

"What, do you see a nipple?" I counter, smirking proudly.

"You're late."

"You're screwing me," I tell him. "The Axis of Pythia is worth thirty three million dollars. You told me it was worth six."

"The Axis is merely a mystical object. It has no inherent monetary value," he replied. "No monetary value"? Yeah, right. The Axis of Pythia is an ancient power bridging all dimensions and can help anyone find whatever the hell it is they've lost. Useful for some, shit to me.

"Blah, blah, polysyllabic blah," I retort smartly. "I need a drink. Waiter?" The waiter comes over right away. He looked like he about shit himself when he saw me, causing me to smile seductively at him. "I'll take a Redcoat, straight up, double the Voddy, and can I get one of those little swizzly things? I just love those," I add to Elliot as the waiter leaves, looking like he just creamed his pants. "You were saying?"

"My appraiser priced the Axis at exactly –" he tells me, but I just shake my head. Elliot needs better help, much better. That or he needs to learn how to lie better.

"At eighteen percent of its true market value," I interject smartly, and he pales. I'm not sure, but he either knew this and didn't tell me – so he could keep more money for himself – or he simply didn't know. He's probably lying, which is an occupational hazard with my job. "And seeing as I steal stuff on commission, that's like getting me for eighty percent off. Now, let's be honest, Elliot," I say and reach over to touch his hand but he jerks away before I can even make contact and I smile bitterly, "do I look like a blue light special to you?"

"Street value is irrelevant. I only want the Axis for my own private collection," he states firmly, and I have to control the urge to roll my eyes. Christ, Elliot is almost as boring as Jean. "Now, as I recall, we had already settled on a rather substantial fee."

"Say it with me, big guy: com-mis-sion," I annunciate slowly, leaning in closer to him. As I do so, I get a look at a file folder on the table. "Is this my stuff?" I ask before snatching it and glancing through it. "Auction house perimeter, security system, vent work, vaults," I read, nodding slowly. Okay, I admit it. I'm impressed. Elliot actually came through, but I still smell a rat.

"Make the delivery to a private high rise downtown. I'll be waiting in the penthouse, and then we'll transfer the balance of your fee," he orders calmly.

"Which we both know is going to have a lot more zeros on the end of it, right?"

"You know Gwen, you came to me very highly recommended for your, ah," he began, stopping as the waiter sets down my drink. Elliot waits until he's gone to speak once again. "For your talents. But I have to admit, I was expecting someone a bit more…professional."

"I _am_ a professional," I tell him, standing up calmly. A professional is what Erik and Mystique taught me to be, and that's exactly what I am! Screw this and screw him. If Elliot doesn't trust me, he can forget about my helping him. I don't need this shit. "And we professionals don't like taking the bone," I add, dangling his watch in front of his face. Pick pocketing, it never gets old. Besides the stripping, when I first got here picking pockets was a hobby of mine.

"Gwen, that is a twelve thousand dollar watch," he warns me nervously. Well, he has every right to be nervous. I close my hand around the watch, tightening until there's a crackle and blue sparks pop out around my hand. I can see his face drop to the floor as I drop his now melted watch onto the table.

"And now it's surrealism," I retort smartly. Taking the swizzle straw out of my drink, I pop it in between my teeth and chew on it. "Thanks for the drink," I tell him, turning around and walking out of the hotel. I have what I need, and now I can finally get what I want.

I see, I want, I take. That's my philosophy, nowadays anyway.

P.S.: Three pages total.


	23. A Good Samaritan

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 23: A Good Samaritan **

I hook a rope to my body harness, zips up a case of locksmith tools, slides a shiny dagger into her boot and settles the strap of a shoulder bag in place. A small metal cylinder is brought to me on a shiny silver tray and I take it.

"Thanks, Nick," I say with a smile to the blonde dressed like a butler.

Walking to the flat screen panel of my computer, I touch a button that turns the screen into a mirror. I open the cylinder and turn its base, and leaning forward I apply my lipstick. I stare for a minute at my reflection, wondering if what I'm about to do is right. After I spent that brief time leaning to be "X-Man".

What would the Professor say? What would 'Ro say? What would Erik say? What would Logan and Rogue say? What would Scott say? I think more than anyone, he'd be the most disappointed in me. I can't say I'd blame him though. Then again, it's _his _fault I left in the first place – both times, to be exact – him and Jean.

Giving it a last look, I turn and leave with a small smile.

I was in Chandler's Auction House faster than you could say Cerebro, scaling a wall with my repelling hooks. The place itself is an establishment firmly rooted in the Black Market, which I really have no problem with since that's where most of my "work" ends up anyway. All I needed to get inside was some propelling ropes, grappling hooks, my hands, and I was good to go. The bag itself holds all of my other tools, the flashlight and an aerosol can just in case. I doubt I'd need it to see the lasers, because I plan on knocking them out entirely, but you never know. It's always good to be prepared.

Jogging over to an electric box, I easily pick the lock on it. Since I already know the layout of the place, thanks to Elliot, I pick out two wires and partly strip the insulation on them. Pulling off my right glove with my teeth, I take a hold of the bared wires and there's a small electric discharge. I know that the cameras inside went dark so, with a satisfied smile, I close the box and walk over to a metal door set in the wall. This is too easy. I lay my ungloved hand over the red light bar above the lock and, after a moment, it turns green and the door opens. Way too easy, I think, as I enter and the door closes behind me.

* * *

I'm sitting in one of the man ducts, holding a pair of wires I'd just cut when the light on the security camera suddenly comes on.

"Yeah," I sigh wearily, looking straight at the camera. "That's not good."

"Help me out here, Fred," I hear a man say in irritation. He sounds…sexy, kind of like Scott but rougher.

Looking out the bottom of my duct, I see him, all black clothing with a leather jacket and some Nancy Boy hairdo with gel. Okay, not really my type, what with the hair gel – hell, even _I_ don't use hair gel – but he's still a hottie. He's in front of the open doorway into the vault. Oh, I know he isn't here for the Axis! He can't be! I watch as he pulls out a can of aerosol and sprays the air in the doorway. The network of green light beams becomes visible and, yeah, he's definitely here for the Axis. Great! Just then, the barred security gate comes down in front of his face.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," he says with even more irritation.

I continue to watch as he takes hold of the bottom cross bar and starts to lift the gate. I don't think I even want to know what the hell he was thinking when he tried that, but he falls back as he's showered with electrical sparks. Forget this. He's messing with my work, and he's going to get me landed in jail. I kick the ceiling panel and drop only my head and torso down through it, inside the vault.

"You know, I put that down for a reason," I tell him pointedly, looking at the cross bar.

"Who are you?" he asks cautiously, though he sounds more confused than anything.

"Who are you?" I echo mockingly.

"I asked you first," he states.

"What are you, seven?" Seriously, what the hell is this guy's problem?

"Tell me you're not here for the Axis," he says. I guess it finally hit him as to why I was in the vault.

"I'm not here for the Axis," I tell him, not even trying to be sincere.

"You're lying," he states firmly. Ooh, he's a feisty little fellow. I think I've annoyed him.

"I'm fibbing. That's lying, only classier," I tell him easily, quoting Magneto. Reaching a gloved hand down, I smile as all the light beams arc up and out of my way. I'm still smiling as I drop down into the cleared space. This is why I'm so good, why the cops can never catch me with all these stupid security systems.

"What?" Nancy Boy gasps in confusion. I just roll my eyes at him and sigh. Hasn't anyone in this city ever heard of a mutant before?

"Technically? I'm exciting the subatomic particles with electrical energy and then bouncing them off each other before they hit ground state," I explain, but he just looks even more confused. "I just love that folks go for this high tech stuff. Electricity comforts them. Suckers," I comment amusedly.

"What are you?" Now I'm frowning. I'm a "what" now, not a "who" like before. Turning away from him, I hold my hand over the palm recognition scanner.

"I'm a freak," I state bitterly over my shoulder. There's an electrical discharge and the lock opens easily enough. "What did you think?" I ask him as I walk into the vault. Like I would be anything else but a freak.

"Yeah, well, uh, I'm sure there's a lot of other nice, expensive things that you could steal in there. It just – it doesn't have to be that one," I hear him say and look back briefly to see him straining to lift the gate.

What a moron! Does he actually think he's going to get through? He doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell. Besides, while he's struggling to get through the gate, I've already got the Axis of Pythia. Ah, the Axis of Pythia, forged from the tripod of the Delphic Oracle. The Axis is a metal arc set into a marble base, stands approximately two feet high and weighs eighteen pounds. It's said to be imbued with many mystical qualities, one of which is finding souls or entities across dimensions.

Yeah, I did my own research on this thing before taking the job for Elliot.

Erik would be proud of me right now. I kinda wish he was here. But there's no time to dwell on that now. I have to get out of here before Nancy Boy gets the cops in here and I get caught. I'm worth a pretty penny, I'm not ashamed to say. Coming out of the vault, carrying the Axis, I take a hold of the rope I came down on. Looking back at Nancy Boy, he's still trapped behind the door.

"So long, handsome," I say to Nancy Boy, puckering my lips and sending him a kiss.

"Listen, I need the Axis! See, it's an ancient mystical artifact –"

"That's fun for a girl and a boy," I interject, rolling my eyes at him. "I like to think of it as…mine."

"Please!" he begs, and I have to stop. Why does he have to sound so much like Scott?

_"Gwen, please!" Scott begs, and I stop and turn to look at him tearfully._

""_Please"!" I echo angrily. There are no tears falling. There are never any tears falling. Erik taught me better than that. I have to be hard. "Are you kidding me?"_

""Please"? Are you kidding me?" I ask bitterly, remembering that day and that sad attempt at an apology. Looking beside Nancy Boy, I see a tall, bald black man. Must be his partner. Funny thing though, Nancy Boy doesn't seem the type for partners. "Hey there, Denzel," I greet jokingly, nodding to the black man, who just quirks an eyebrow at me.

"I'm trying to find someone," Nancy Boy continues, so I look back at him in boredom. "Someone very important to me, and the Axis there," he says, pointing to the artifact in my arm, "it's my only shot."

"Come on, he's telling the truth," Denzel adds supportively.

"Oh, golly, if you say it's true," I reply mockingly, making sure I sound like some bubble gum teenybopper from an after school 1950's special. "So what? You just want to…borrow this thing?" I question skeptically, scoffing at them. I wasn't born yesterday and, frankly, I'm offended that they think I'm so stupid.

"You can do whatever you want with it as soon as I find her," Nancy Boy bargains and I sigh.

""Her". Of course it's a "her"," I mutter sadly. Figures! Every time I find a guy I might be able to kick it with, he already has a girl who rocks his socks. Letting go of the rope, I walk over to the gate to stand in front of Nancy Boy and Denzel. "Two questions then. One: do you really love her?"

"Yeah, I do," he admits with a quiet, desperate sigh. God, if I only cared.

"Two: on a scale of one to ten," I began, making sure to sound sympathetic, "exactly how stupid do you think I am?" Oh, look at their faces! They are truly pathetic! Too bad for them. Just as I turn to leave, an alarm goes off and the lights begin to flash as the gate slowly rises. FUCK! "Don't answer that," I tell them, going back to quickly climb my rope.

"Way to go, Fred," Nancy Boy says, and I look back to see him try to force the gate up faster. Denzel suddenly rolls through under the gate as soon as there is enough space and lunges for me, wrapping his arms around my legs.

"Let go!" I shout at him, both for his sake and my own. Well, more for mine than him.

"A little help here," he calls to Nancy Boy.

I might regret this later, but it takes me all of five seconds before reaching out and sending an electrical charge into Denzel. I hold on as he lets out a scream; I have to get the bastard off me somehow, I refuse to get caught because of these prick teases! Unfortunately, while I was holding onto Denzel, I missed Nancy Boy getting through the gate. He tackles me, breaking my hold on his little friend, and we all drop to the floor. I look up as Nancy Boy goes back to his friend, and head back to my rope as some stick with curls, that I can only guess is a girl who desperately needs her cherry popped, comes running through the door.

"He's dead," Nancy boy tells Stick Chick, his fingers on Denzel's neck, feeling for a pulse.

"No! No! No!" Stick Chick Cherry cries out mournfully, running over to Denzel. Looking at his body, just lying there on the floor, I can't help but see Greg all over again.

_"You can hold on to this, if you want," he said, and I couldn't help but smile. He smiled back as I reached for the car with my ungloved hand. God, I was so stupid. Lightning arced from my hand and into Greg as soon as I touched the toy. The strike threw him backwards, about ten feet away from me._

Damn it, I knew I was going to regret shocking him!

"Move!" I order the two, blowing Nancy Boy out of the way with an electrical charge and kick Stick Chick Cherry away from Denzel. "Sorry, honey," I tell her, not even trying to sound sorry. Reaching down, I lay one hand on Denzel's chest. There are a couple discharges, but nothing changes. God damn it! I shake my hand out briefly before putting it back on Denzel's chest. "Just like starting a Chevy," I joke and there's another discharge, much more powerful, as Denzel jolts up, gasping for breath. "There we go," I say, a little shocked that I'm risking my life to save his. Christ this feels different. I feel like…an X-Man. All of a sudden, I'm tossed aside by Nancy Boy and I hear Stick Chick Cherry run back to Denzel. I get back to my feet quickly enough and kick Nancy Boy in the head. Jesus, this guy has a weird way of saying 'thank you'!

"Angel, we got to get to a hospital," Stick Chick Cherry shouts desperately, and I see Nancy Boy hesitate.

So, this black knight in leather's name is Angel. I could point out the irony in that, but I'll just let it lay. I can see him hesitate for a moment, looking from me to Denzel, before he runs to pick Denzel. Wise decision, I think, as I climb back up my rope and into the ceiling.

I have the Axis, I win. I love winning.

P.S.: Five pages total.


	24. Be Still My Unbeating Heart

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 24: Be Still My Un-beating Heart**

I don't know what those people were thinking, but they were into some deep shit. Ever since I came out to LA, all I've come across or heard about – whether by rumor or cops – are "mystical disturbances". The knight in a black leather jacket, Nancy Boy – Angel – is one hell of a character.

Still, that doesn't mean a damn thing. He was after the Axis, which means he's competition. This little trinket is my payday, and no one is going to get in the way of that. No one!

I'm back to wearing my tight, black leather pants and red spaghetti top, also leather. As if I would be wearing anything else. As I walk across the lobby of a high rise, carrying the bag with the Axis, I could've sworn some was following me. Call it a hunch, but I had that weird spine shiver that people get when they feel eyes on them. I turned a few times but saw nothing. Maybe I'm being paranoid but, being a mutant, I've learned to be cautious of even my own shadow. I push the up button on the elevator and check my lipstick in the mirror inset in the doors, trying to forget the odd feelings.

"Nice color."

I spin to find Angel standing behind me, looking non-too happy. Confused, I look back at the mirror only to find there's no Angel reflected in it. Huh, odd. The elevator dings and the doors open.

"Okay. After I kick your ass, I'm gonna ask about that," I tell him calmly before swinging my bad at his head. He ducks, lucky bastard, so I kick him and toss the bag into the elevator. No way am I risking him getting it this easily.

"I don't want to hurt you," he tells me, and my blood boils.

"That's what they all say," I retort, thinking back to Scott once again.

"_I never meant to hurt you, Gwen," he says, looking at pathetically. If I could see his eyes, I'd bet he'd look genuinely sorry._

"I don't usually enjoy the hand to hand this much," I tell him, smiling as we fight. Man, he's just as good as Scott! Angel blocks my punches and returns with a few of his own, some of which actually make it through my defenses.

"Maybe you haven't been doing it right," he insults. That's it! I go at him again, supplementing my punches with some electrical discharges. Angel blocks some, but takes others. With one big punch, I'm able to send him spinning up against the wall.

"Why are you not toast?" I ask him confusedly, trying to hold him against the wall. After all the shocks I've given him, he should be dead! Angel grabs me by the shoulders, and switches our positions to slam me up against the wall instead.

"I'm not even warmed up," he says cockily.

"Oh, really?" I question challengingly and punch him square across the jaw, sending him rolling to the floor. As Angel picks himself back up, I'm pulling off both my long black gloves. I'm through playing around. "I can fix that," I threaten.

We go at it again, eventually ending up inside the open elevator. Angel's on his back as I straddle and, as sad as it makes me to fry such a great looking man, I rip his shirt open and rest both hands on his bare chest. Blue light and sparks arc from her fingers and straight into him. This'll teach him to mess with me.

"Warm enough," I sneer mocking, smirking at him.

All of a sudden, I can feel his heart. It's…I can't really explain it, but my electrical charge went straight to it – like I wanted it to – but, instead of stopping his heart, the charge…started it up. Angel sits up with a gasp, and grabs a hold of me and pulls me into a deep kiss. It feels good. No, not good. Great! Oh, my God! This man is wonderful, he's…God, he's heaven! He's…oh, man. We break apart just as a set of thick bars slide across the exit of the elevator. Angel, he feels and tastes just like Scott.

What the hell is that about?

"You're alive," I gasp, looking at him in amazement. I didn't kill him; he's the first person I've ever touched that I didn't kill.

"You felt that?" he asks, breathing deeply. "My heart…"

"It was beating," I supplied helpfully. "It doesn't, does it?"

I don't believe in that whole undead, vampire thing. Although, truth be told, I've seen enough that I probably should. Still, if Angel _is_ part of the undead community, as I'm really starting to suspect, I certainly might have a great friend on my side because, if what the stories and movies say are true, then he's hella strong. I guess that explains why he kept trying to lift up that gate at the vault with his bare hands.

"Cordelia," he mumbles, pushing me off of him in a rather gentlemanly manner and helping me to my feet. Okay, this is either the best or worst put down I've ever had since Scott. "I got to get out of here."

"What the hell is going on?" I wonder, looking at the bars confusedly. Out of nowhere, Elliot appears on the other side of the bars blocking the elevator door.

"Well, that should be obvious, to a professional like yourself," he says mockingly, and I glare at the worm. Bastard is double-crossing me!

"It's a double cross," Angel states, and I turn to look at him wearily.

"I'm not slow. I know its – shut up!" God, he's starting to get just a little annoying. "Is he one of yours?" I ask Elliot, pointing a thumb at Angel.

"No. I thought he was yours, what with the…tonguing," he replies, shifting uncomfortably.

"In his dreams," I retort with a scoff.

"Not even close," Angel adds, and I look over at him. Jeez, he really is like Scott. What a bastard!

"Doesn't matter," Elliot says with a tone of finality, and I can just guess what's going to happen next. After all, a double cross always ends bad for the person at the other end. That person just happens to be me this time.

"Job's done, Elliot. You don't have to do this," I tell him, trying to coax him into reason. Hey, if it worked for the Professor and Erik all those years ago, why not now?

"I have no choice!" he shouts angrily. Great, I've pissed off a middle-aged psycho. "The job you did for me was a train wreck. The noise, the publicity, that little stunt you pulled in the bar."

"That was just a joke," I tease coyly.

"Professionals are discreet, young lady," he scolds, sounding like Sybil and Chuck. "You, on the other hand, are a freak. A dangerous freak, which is why I had them remodel the elevator you're standing in. More of a retrofit really. Low-teched the whole thing with six inches of plexi-glass, separating you from any available current," he explains. Well, that's just the elevator, not the bars, so I slam my hands down on those. Nothing. What the fuck! "Tempered lucite," he says.

"He's gonna seal us in. Turn on the gas," Angel explains, looking around the elevator for a possible escape route.

"What are you, Lex Luthor?" I ask Elliot, looking at him like he's a moron, which he really is. He's just pissed off the wrong freak.

"What do you think? I was gonna stand here and duke it out with Electro Girl?" he retorts disdainfully before smiling. "Ah, don't worry. I'm told that the gas is very fast acting. You'll be dead with in," he begins, checking his left, watchless wrist, "whoops! Where does the time go?"

Okay, that's a low blow. I guess I really shouldn't have melted his watch. Gas starts to hiss out of nozzles in the roof of the elevator as the doors slide shut. Angel tried to stop them, but couldn't get to them in time. Great, I'm going to die in an elevator with a man who's pining after another woman with a name that sounds like it belongs to a Shitzu!

"Okay, there's got to be something," Angel muses, feeling along the walls as I cover my mouth and squint my eyes. While I wonder what the hell he plans to do, he tries to push me to sit down. "Get down. Now! Get low," he orders.

"Ow!" I shout as he finally forces me to the floor. "You jackass! You get low!"

"I don't need to. I don't breathe," he reminds me. Shit, he really _is_ a vampire.

"Gee, must be a real turn on for the girlfriend," I retort bitterly.

"Utility panel, right about here, you think?" he asks, pointing to a spot on the wall.

"Plastic's too thick, you lunkhead. I can't get through to blow the charge," I remind him. God, I would kill for Scott's eyes or Scruffy's claws right about now.

"Simple question!" he shouts impatiently. "Is it here or not?"

"Yes, it's there!" I shout back in annoyance and he starts to pound the plexi-glass over the panel with his fist. A few cracks actually start to appear. Just when I think we have a chance to get out of here, I start to cough. The gas is starting to take affect, and I can still hear Angel pounding away on the plexi-glass as I curl up on the floor.

"If I die," I begin weakly, coughing.

"You're not gonna die," he assures him, but I don't believe him.

"Last kiss?" I ask him, gasping for air. I try to stay awake and watch as Angel breaks through the plexi-glass. He reaches into the panel and grabs a hold of some wires with one hand, stretching the other out towards me. What the hell is he doing?

"Hey!" he shouts, and I understand. Taking a hold of Angel's hand, I feel a current arcing across our hands. The elevator doors open and Angel gathers me up into his arms, carrying me out of the gas and into fresh air.

"Get rid of him," I hear Elliot order, and suddenly Angel is running. He lays me down in the corner by the elevator and I open my eyes long enough to watch him take out Elliot's three goons. Where they came from, I haven't the foggiest idea but it figures that a prick like Elliot would have lackeys. That just pisses me off even more.

The bastard probably didn't even need me for the heist. He was just using me! He just wanted to kill me, like all those other mutant haters, those…those…humans! I'll kill him for this. Angel tosses the last goon aside and I see him turn to find me on my feet an advancing on Elliot. I smile when I see him backing away, holding the bag containing the Axis up between us like a shield. Right, like that's going to help him.

"I expect to get screwed. Professional thief. Hazard of the biz," I inform him smartly, glaring at him like the weakling that he is.

"Just wait a second, please," he begs and I shake my head.

"What I don't appreciate, Elliot, is being called a freak. That's _my_ word, and I get cranky when people like _you_ use it," I tell him, cracking my knuckles.

"Gwen, think about this," Angel warns, but what the hell does he know.

"You ever been struck by lightning, Elliot?" I ask him casually. "I have. I've been struck by lightning fourteen times. It's not my fault. I just attract it. You know what also attracts lightning? Maggoty little _norms_ like you," I say in disgust, taking another step towards him with my hand raised to kill him.

"So, you're a freak. Boo-hoo," Angel sneered harshly and I stop to look at him. "So what?"

"Excuse me?" I ask, thinking I might have heard him wrong.

"I think you've already figured out I'm not the poster boy for normal. Sometimes you got to let go," he advises calmly as he walks up beside me…and hauls back a hard right that knocks Elliot out!

"Hey! I wanted to do that," I protest angrily. Great, now who's seven? Me.

"You were gonna fry him," he points out.

"Was not!"

"Don't fib."

"Fine," I say with a small smile. "Did you at least break his nose?" I reach out to turn Elliot over, hoping I can sneak in a shock, but Angel takes hold of my arm. He holds fast, hearing the low electrical sizzle. Damn him, he's good. "You're really gonna use that Axis thing to find her, aren't you?" I ask seriously, but Angel just looks at me. "Figures," I mumble quietly. "Anyone that bad at stealing stuff has got to be doing it for love. Bummer."

A harsh insult, maybe, but he doesn't even try to stop me as I walk past him and out the door. Yeah, he's just like Scott.

P.S.: Six pages total.


	25. Professional

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own _X-Men_, _Angel_, or any of their characters. Nor do I own Gwen. She belongs to the great Joss Whedon. This is just a random idea that popped into my crazy brain one day.

Check out my profile for the link to my Photobucket to see Gwen and the others!

**Chapter 25: Professional **

The Hyperion Hotel.

That's where Nancy Boy Angel has been hiding. Since finding out that all that magical mystic shit is real – I mean, a guy has no reflection, survives my touch, and has no heartbeat just spells mystical shit – I took a closer look at the city. I don't know why I never noticed anything strange before. It's kind of obvious that the city is some kind of hot spot. After a bit of questioning and some threatening from some low life's walking the streets, I found out that Angel has a snitch, some cowardly little demon of some kind named Merv. Yeah, so demons are real. I guess that means that angels, witches, and leprechauns are as well. It really wouldn't surprise me. Back to the point though. I found Merv at some karaoke bar called Caritas, and I took him out back to talk. He asked for money. I don't pay money, I earn and steal it. So, after a few convincing shocks, he told me exactly where to find Angel.

It's really not a bad looking place. It's really old, at least a hundred years or so, maybe more, but it's in pretty good condition for what it is. The iron gate is unlocked, so that's easy to get through. I go to the front door, crack it open, and peek inside: no one. Okay, so either Angel lives alone or Denzel and Stick Chick Cherry abandoned him. I step further inside and wow. It really is a nice place. I wouldn't mind staying here.

I can hear movement upstairs, and quickly go up the crimson carpeted stairwell. I follow the noise, back pressed against the wall, until I get to a cracked door. Carefully, I peer inside and see my target, Angel, getting undressed. The shower is running from a side door.

Strange, I never thought vampires would shower. Then again, the whole being dead thing must carry with it a nasty smell.

Angel disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Now, I have no experience, but Angel is very nice as far as bodies go. Lots of muscle, but not too much, and he has a huge…uh, well, you know.

I quickly but cautiously enter the room and look around. It's got to be around here somewhere.

"Gwen?" Shit. I turn around and, low and behold, there he is. And he's still in a towel. Somewhere, God is laughing at me.

"Yeah, that's me. And I can tell by the sound of your voice that you're so happy to see me," I reply, hands on my hips.

"Um, what are you doing here?" he asks, hand clutching the towel at his waist. His eyes shift to look around the room. Aw, is the big bad freak nervous? Because of little old me? I'm honored!

"I'm a thief, Angel. I'm here to steal," I remind him pointedly and look around the room.

"Steal what, exactly?" Figures. Do I have to spell out everything for him? Life used to be so easy.

"Oh, sure. Of course you forgot," I state sardonically. "We had a deal, remember?"

"The Axis." Bingo, big guy. Glad to see that huge forehead of yours actually has a brain hidden underneath.

"I think a day is more than enough time for you to do whatever it was you needed." Reasonable enough, right? I can be reasonable and logical just fine if you just don't piss me off.

"You actually thought I'd hide a thirty-three million dollar object here?" he asked me. Why does he have to sound so shocked, so superior? It's not like he's any better than me. "Like, what? I'd place it on the nightstand or under my bed?" Just to prove his point, because I obviously don't believe him, he starts to search the room. He lifts up a few things and even goes so far as to move others out of the way, just to show me that it's not in the room. Bastard, think you're so smart but I'm smarter. "Well, as you have obviously seen for yourself, it's not here. So, if you don't mind, I have stuff to do. I believe you know your way out? Thanks for stopping by. I'll be sure to leave the stealables out next time."

"Oh, please!" I scoff. "You must think I'm the world's biggest idiot. No one steals an object worth that much and not hide it somewhere on their person," I tell him. Angel just glares and grabs my arm at the glove – I guess he doesn't favor getting shocked again – and drags me to the door. "Hey!" I shout and push him off me. "So, what? You didn't get your girlfriend back and now you're all grumpy because you don't have anyone to suck face with?" I question amusedly. By the look on his face, I guess I'm right. After all, he's all alone in this hotel room. If he'd gotten his girl back, she would be here, with him. "I'm not leaving without my property. _You_ know it's mine, _I_ know it's mine, and, besides, I already have plans with the proceeds. Big plans."

"Well, I hope it's a new wardrobe because spandex and leather are out," he tells me and I smirk at him.

"Been paying extra attention to my appearance, have you?" I ask, taking a few steps closer to him.

"Yeah, I tend to have a close eye on all the freaks in my town." There he goes, using _my_ word against me. Asshole! What gives him the right to do that? Besides, "his town"? I don't think so!

"You should talk, Mr. I-Don't-Have-A-Pulse. Who are you calling a freak, freak?" I retort easily and he glares at me again.

"At least I can get _in touch_ with people with out killing them on impact," he states. Low blow.

"Screw you!" I shout and turn to leave. Forget the Axis. I'll get it another time if he's not going to play nice.

"Gwen," he calls and I stop to look back at him. Oh, God, there's that face. That "please, forgive me" face. I hate that face. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…I shouldn't have…I'm just sorry, okay? I'm sorry."

"Its fine, Angel, really," I reply shortly. No, it's really not! "It's not like your wrong or anything."

"I was out of line. It's just…I've had a bad day. A _really_ bad day. You saying…I just snapped."

"Not a prob, Nancy Boy."

""Nancy Boy"?" he echoes curiously. He's smart enough to sound offended.

"Sorry, my little nickname for you. When I saw you back at the penthouse, the first thing I thought was, 'Wow, look at all that Nancy Boy hair gel'. Since then I've kind of been wondering what you do that requires that much hair gel. Besides the breaking into penthouses to steal mystical artifacts part."

"I'm a private detective," he answered. Yeah, but that still doesn't explain the hair gel. I mean, did Dick Tracey wear hair gel? No!

"And you just decided to steal the Axis as a side job for you own personal gain?" I questioned sarcastically. I guess he missed the sarcasm because he glares again. "Kidding." I raise my hands up in defense. "So, how come you don't breathe? Normally, I mean? No reflection? Are you – and, please, don't judge me on my mental status when I ask this – a vampire?"

"Yeah," he answers plainly.

"Huh," is all I can really say. "I heard that vampires were in L.A. but I've never run across one. So, unless you get your blood supply at Vampires-R-Us, what do you do for food?"

"I usually get my blood from the local butcher. But, if necessary and under _very_ special circumstances, I think I could get by on human blood. You were saying?"

"Does it hurt? When you…" How could I say it without sounding like a total bitch? When you vamp out? When get the bumps? What didn't sound snotty? "…when you do _that_," Yeah, that was a good neutral way to go, "does it hurt?"

"Not me," was the simple reply. I vaguely nodded and continued to look at him. When the bumps disappeared, I still couldn't stop staring. That was just too cool. "Stop staring at me."

"Hmm?" Shaking my head, I snapped back into focus. Nice, Gwen, real nice. Just stare at the mythical creature like he's some animal in a zoo. Nice. "Sorry, but it's not every day I meet a creature of the night. Well, the blood sucking kind anyway. You know, it's odd," I told him, crossing my arms and walking closer to him. "You just don't seem to fit the vampire profile. Isn't annoying to blend in with the normies even though you can't?"

"Of course not. I don't try to hide what I am, Gwen. It's a part of me." I roll my eyes and nod. There's that damn speech again; first he's like Scott, now he's Chuck.

"Do you think you'd want to? Bite me, I mean?"

"What?" Okay, no need to sound so scared, Angie.

"Just asking if I'm bitable, big guy," I explain calmly, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'm curious, you know, since most men get zapped and then they're out the door fast than you can say Thomas Edison."

"Well, you'll find I'm not like most men." I nod slowly. He nods slowly. Can you say awkward?

"So…"

"…You still want the Axis?" he wonders.

"If you don't have any more use for it, yeah. I kinda need the dough until my next job. Which will hopefully go off without any undead interruptions," I add with a pointed look. He told me to wait while he ran off to get it. Sighing, I go to the window and sit on the ledge, waiting patiently. I could snoop but, if the stories about vampires are true, they had super speed and super hearing. Which means he would catch me, easily. And possibly kill me, though we've been playing nice so far. And I don't want to die. There's so many shiny things in the world I just haven't stolen yet.

He's in front of me before I even know what happens and hands me the Axis. I take it with a smile and wink, "Thanks, Angel Cakes."

"God, you sound like Lorne," he groans.

"Who?"

"Never mind. So, what you are going to do with the money?" he asks, quickly changing the subject. Whoever this Lorne is, I think I could like him…or possibly her.

"Oh, I was planning on taking that trip to Paris I always wanted." He stares at me, eyebrows quirked. He looks surprised. I think I'm a little offended by that. "Well, I've been practically everywhere else, so why not?"

"You travel a lot?"

"Hell yes! We've only got one life – well, some of us, anyway," I add with a nod to him. "But those of us that _do_ have just the one life, I figure, should make the best of it. Carpe Diem and all that jazz."

He nods and shifts around a moment, hands in his pockets. "We'll, you got what you came for so…"

"Aw, trying to get rid of me already?" I pout and chuckle. "It's okay, I have to get going anyway. A client of mine says he has an urgent job for me."

"Paris?" Smart man…er, vampire.

I smile coyly. "How'd you know?"

"Your voice changes slightly when you lie."

"So some of the myths are true. Wicked." Angel smirks a little, looking rather cute and modest. One foot out the window, I turn back to him and smile, "See you around, Angel."

"See you, Gwen. Try to stay out of trouble." Not freaking likely, bub.

"Only if you do."

P.S.: Four pages total.


End file.
